


In Production

by Reccea



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reccea/pseuds/Reccea





	1. Chapter 1

The strip of skin on his ring finger is bright white, a sharp contrast to the golden tan of the rest of his hand. Jared runs his thumb over it, the way he used to twist the ring along his finger. He can almost feel the smooth warmth of the metal circling his finger. He should use sunscreen more, he thinks irrationally. All he needs is to be the George Hamilton of his generation.

He doesn't know anyone's near him until Jensen says, "Something I should know?"

Jared starts, his heart doing a half skip ahead, and he turns to find Jensen standing right next to him, looking at his left hand amused.

"I'm a free agent." Jared practiced saying it all afternoon, and he still sounds stilted. He's a damn good actor, but he's never been able to treat his life like another script.

The amusement drains from Jensen's face, replaced by genuine surprise. He looks around, eyeing the drunk, giddy people nearby, then takes Jared by the arm and steers him towards the patio. The patio is pretty full up, but there's an empty corner outside of the smoker's circle. Jensen grabs two beers from a passing waiter and makes a beeline for it. There's a small table in the corner, five chairs too close together. Jensen nods towards the chairs farthest from the crowd and they go around opposite sides, pushing the other three chairs away so they can at least sit comfortably.

Jensen passes Jared a beer and waits, eyes careful and searching.

Jared takes a long drink, not wanting to speak now that his one good line's fallen flat.

"I wasn't serious," Jensen says after a minute. He sets his beer down towards the middle of the table and looks at Jared over it.

Jared lost his first wedding ring on a set before his six month anniversary and it had taken three months, Jared's lawyer working overtime, and Jensen conquering eBay to get it back. Jared never wore it to a set anymore and always went barehanded to parties if he left directly from work. So his ringless finger wouldn't merit a comment from anyone, not even the rags, and Jensen's joke was old hat.

"Yeah," Jared says, shifting his seat, trying to get comfortable and knowing it's not going to happen. "I know."

"Do you...," Jensen waves one hand around, encompassing the idea of talking without actually doing it himself.

"Long time coming," Jared says because he doesn't know how to explain it. Falling out of love isn't anything new, but it _is_ new for him. He still loves everyone who's mattered to him. "I got a new place in the hills, but nothing's formal yet." By formal he means no papers have been filed and no publicity statements composed. He's called his parents, but that's it. There's probably a system to it, certain groups of friends he needs to call before the general public reads all about it. But he doesn't want to call anyone. And he doesn't want to make it Sandy's problem either.

Sandy's friend Tara sent out divorce announcements when she finally left her asshole of a husband. They were nice, thick paper and fancy ink, like wedding announcements, complete with a fancy party and a big damn cake. Let all of her friends celebrate her newfound freedom before the lawyers had even started hashing out a settlement. She'd been pretty angry.

But Jared isn't _angry_, and he doesn't have a reason to celebrate. He's sad, a little heartbroken, and upset that he isn't more of both. He feels almost like a failure, like he's one step off from it, and you don't go around announcing that.

"Okay." Jensen nods, more to himself than anything, and then he looks out at the world outside the party. There are paparazzi not too far off in the bushes, taking pictures of some couple who shouldn't be coupling, probably. "I'm here if you need me." Which is Jensen's way of saying he'll wait, and Jared's grateful for it. He's not ready yet. Stupid to say anything before he was ready, but it's been bubbling up in him for weeks and he couldn't keep it down.

Jared toes one of the stray chairs and drags it closer so he can kick his legs up on it. "Heard you dropped out of the Reitman thing." Work is a safe topic and hell, there are a bunch of others but all of Jared's teams are tanking this season and he's too bogged down with his show to be up on any new games, systems, or even fucking movies.

"Timing sucks. Pick ups for _Beggar's Chance_ had to be pushed back," Jensen sighs and settles down low in his chair. "I need more than a week off between three movies, you know? So I dropped out and I'm taking next spring off."

Jared shakes his head. "I'm telling you, lead in an ensemble show. Guaranteed summers off, a month at Christmas and honest to fucking god weekends off."

Jensen gives him a look, smiling because it's an argument three years old and still neither of them would trade. Jared relaxes enough that some of the tension in his shoulders finally bleeds off. He gets into shop talk, this director versus that, the episode they're finishing up and the direction the season's heading. For the last year he's held an executive producer credit and he's doing his best to take it seriously and put in the hours it deserves.

Jensen's finishing up a press tour and has the normal, comfortable complaints about jet lag, reporters and hearing the same question fifteen times a day. Jared likes that it's always this way, a half a moment to adjust and then they're back into it, close as if they'd never parted to begin with. Still the same two guys who'd been thick as thieves at first sight.

"Jesus," Jensen says, out of the blue. He shakes his head and the smile on his face is more surprised than anything else. "Every time I get used to looking at you, you go and change."

Jared can hear the compliment in it, that Jensen means 'improve' more than he means 'change' and it's the bolster Jared's been needing all night. "Can't get complacent."

The truth is, Jensen's changed more than he has, Jared's pretty sure. The fine lines around his eyes aren't as fine as they used to be, and there's gray peppered in his light hair, if you looked close enough. He's still gorgeous, maybe more so than before. Getting older looks more like maturing on Jensen, like he's just been growing into who he meant to be, not that he's leaving behind the glory of his youth. It figures, really, that forty suits Jensen.

"Nah," Jensen shakes his head. "Get complacent and that hair of yours is bound to launch a revolution."

Jared laughs, a real sharp surprised bark that he feels down in his chest. He kicks at Jensen's feet under the table, grins when Jen curses and kicks back in self defense. "You wish you had hair like mine," he says, pushing his near-empty bottle to the edge of the table.

"Keep dreaming." Jensen gets a swift kick through Jared's defenses, looking smug when Jared swears loudly.

Jared laughs again, reaching down to rub at his calf. He feels relaxed and actually glad he'd come to the opening instead of heading home at the end of the day.

Jensen taps his fingers on the table, the beat of a song Jared can't place. The smile on Jensen's face fades into something a little more somber, lines easing around his mouth and tightening at his eyes. "Why'd you come? Tonight, I mean."

"Same reason you did." Jared answers without thinking. "Tom's a friend and I promised to come and get my picture taken for the opening." After a moment, Jared ducks his head and runs his fingers over the smooth wood of the table. "And it's better than a night alone."

"Have you moved out?" Jensen moves his feet to bracket Jared's. Jared can barely feel it through the leather of his shoes but the gesture's enough.

"Two weeks ago." He reaches out, takes the last drag off his bottle. He admits, "Still don't have anything but a TV and a bed. And it's a big fucking house."

A waitress comes up on them then, making noise enough to warn them. She's been pretty well trained. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah," Jared shakes his head. "I'm all good. Gonna head out in a few."

"Same here," Jensen says, smiling politely.

She backs away with a sincere, "Let me know if you change your mind," line and bustles through the crowd to a younger set with a longer night ahead and bigger tips to give out.

"I've been up since three," Jared says after a minute. "Stayed here longer than I planned."

"I'm irresistible is all." Jensen takes the cue, standing up and stretching his arms out like he's been cooped up for days.

Jared stands as well, reaching over to clap a hand hard on Jensen's shoulder. "Thanks, man."

"Don't thank me," Jensen says, shaking his head. "You're just my excuse to the fifty people inside I've spent the night avoiding."

"Nice try, man." Jared pushes Jensen towards the exit and the valet station. "Nice try."

Jensen hands off his ticket to the valet before he says, "Brunch tomorrow." It's not a question, but Jared can tell there's an out there if he needs it.

Jared grins into the night. "When did we start 'doing brunch'?"

Jensen reaches over, smacks him hard in the center of his chest. He says with a wry smile, "When we got too old to drink at one of these things and still make it out of bed for breakfast."

"Wow, you're that old, huh?" Jared takes a strategic step back. "I thought it was when you got famous enough to make your own schedule."

Jensen manages to get a punch in, a gentle push against Jared's chest. He's got a comeback, Jared can tell by the tilt of his mouth, but Jensen doesn't say it. The valet pulls up in a sleek black convertible.

"You got a ride home?" Jensen takes a step down the stairs, holding out his hand for his keys.

"I'm good." Jared fishes his number out for another valet to take.

Jensen frowns, stepping out in front of his car. "You're sure," he says, quiet and far enough away now that Jared barely hears him. "I mean you're good on your own?"

Jared's stomach goes warm and his smile this time is easy, natural and unconscious. "Yeah," he nods. "I'll be good."

"Okay," Jensen relents, finally walking around to the open driver's side door. "Brunch tomorrow?"

"I'll call you before I head over." His car pulls up behind Jensen's and Jared takes the steps two at a time.

"Night, man." Jensen gets in his car.

Jared gives Jensen a mock salute as his car pulls out, and then he passes the valet a tip, gets into his driver's seat, and remembers not to go to the wrong house.

* * *

The first summer after _Supernatural_ was over, Jared had a movie to film in LA and no time to think about anything, let alone about not coming back to Vancouver in July. And every night, when he got back to the house he owned in the city, he would pick up his phone and call Jensen.

Jensen didn't always answer--he was filming in Georgia, and half the time he was asleep before Jared got off set. But when he did answer, the two of them would make plans like there was a definite point in time to look forward to. Like there was some set schedule where they'd be in the same place, on the same schedule, in each other's space like always.

Jensen filmed three movies in that first year, two bit parts and the one that made him, and Jared guested on six different shows and filmed one comedy. They saw each other ten times, once just a freak hour layover in the same LAX terminal, and Jared never felt a distance.

Mostly when you stop filming with someone, you stop hanging out with them too. The only friends you're supposed to keep in Hollywood are your entourage or the people you got trashed with on your own time. And Jensen's career hit the stratosphere a good two years before Jared's did, so the chances of them making a decent friendship out of five seasons in Vancouver were next to nothing.

But Jared's always been good at defying the odds and embracing a challenge.

And anyway, Jensen's never been the type to let go of someone he connected with.

* * *

Jared picks Jensen up a little before 11am, and Jensen directs him to the restaurant. Over the years, Jensen's picked up a knack for finding places the paparazzi don't know and this one is no exception. The parking is non-existent, and Jared has to parallel into a tiny space outside of a duplex. He follows Jensen half a block and then onto the main drag. The restaurant is a small place that looks like it used to be somebody's house. The seating is outside, on a wooden deck, with a second level around the edge that's a good five feet higher. It really does look like someone's deck, a house party with wooden tables and chairs spread out and white Christmas lights scattered across the hedge that serves as the border between the tables and the sidewalk.

They're shown to a table in the front corner. Jensen sends the waiter away with an order of coffee for himself and water for them both. Jared doesn't say anything, content with water and too busy taking the place in to bother with the beverage menu. They're on the higher level of the deck, right up against the hedge. He can look to his right and see the people walking right by him, see the tips of their heads over the green, and he knows Jensen can see the traffic going the other way. Jared feels exposed, but not particularly vulnerable, and more a part of the general public than he has in a good long while.

Jensen cleans his sunglasses on the edge of his t-shirt and slips them back on before picking up his menu. "The chocolate chip pancakes are good."

Jared looks away from the sidewalk, back to Jensen. As far as Jared knows, Jensen's been on a pretty strict diet since he hit thirty. Chocolate chip pancakes aren't on that diet. Jensen smiles and shakes his head, looking down at the menu in his hand, thumbing through the pages. "Suit yourself."

When the waiter comes back with Jensen's coffee and the ice waters, Jensen does order the chocolate chip pancakes. Jared orders his eggs, hash browns, and bacon, and only orders the pancakes when Jensen arches an eyebrow at him. He bites his cheek to keep from laughing. He can't decide if it's more childish to order chocolate chip pancakes or cave to peer pressure.

"So, you finish up the promo tour, and then what?" Jared drinks half the cup of water in one go.

Jensen grabs three sugar packets from the small white dish at the center of the table, ripping them up and pouring them into his coffee. "Filming in Paris until mid-August."

Jared has been to Paris a handful of times, mostly for promotional tours and premieres, and once for a two week set of exterior pick ups. He's spent more time in Cannes, all things considered. "Must be nice." Under the table he kicks Jensen's shin.

Jensen kicks him back and pours a small dollop of cream into the cup, stirring until it's a tan color. "The best part is the movie, believe it or not. This time travel thing. It's like half James Bond, half Dr. Who."

Jared slides down further in his seat, stretching his legs out, feet braced against the wall behind Jensen's chair. "Thought you swore off genre after that awful astronaut thing."

Jensen frowned. "We agreed not to talk about that." He moved his left leg a few inches, pressing his calf to Jared's.

"I reserved the right to all avenues of mocking after your salary hit fifteen million." Jared tilted his chin down and raised both his eyebrows.

The corner of Jensen's mouth goes up, fighting a smile. "Fair enough."

"Anyway, I thought you were the big Drama Guy now." Jared finished his water, ice cubes clicking against his teeth.

Jensen takes a sip of his coffee , keeping the edge of the cup against his mouth. "No typecasting."

The waiter comes back with a platter piled high. The pancakes are deposited on either side of them and the rest of Jared's meal is set right in front of him. The pancakes look like big fluffy chocolate chip cookies, and Jared moves the plates around so he can eat the pancakes while the whipped cream is still melting. And Jensen was right. They're fucking awesome.

Jensen flags the waiter down when he's one down on his pancakes, asking for a glass of milk, and Jared has to laugh at him. "You eat like a five year old."

"Whatever, man." Jensen shrugs him off. "I remember when your green room requests were licorice and gummy bears."

The waiter brings a huge glass of milk and grins at Jared. Once he's gone, Jared leans close, whispering conspiratorially, "I think he heard me."

Jensen shakes his head. "The whole place did." It's probably true. Jared's never exactly been a quiet guy.

Jared finishes off his pancakes in relative silence, listening to the varied conversations of the passerbys beyond the hedge. It's weird, but it feels nice to just _stop_ for a moment and breathe. His life has been at breakneck pace for so long that he's starting to feel like his breath is caught in his chest.

"So, I've got that premiere on Wednesday." Jensen eyes Jared's eggs.

Jared moves his glass of water in front of his plate, giving Jensen a look. "At the Kodak, right?" Some of the crew lived near there, and there'd been a lot of on-set bitching about the traffic being at Oscar levels.

Jensen sets his fork down on Jared's plate in silent surrender. "Yeah. It's going to be this stupid insane thing, and everyone we know and hate is going to be there."

"Sounds like quite the party." Jared finishes off the eggs and pushes the rest of his hash browns towards the back of his plate, near Jensen's abandoned fork.

Jensen pushes at his fork, making a small dent in the potatoes. "Think you can get out of work early?"

Jared looks away from the plate to bat his eyelashes over dramatically. "Jensen, are you inviting me to your premiere?"

Jensen shrugs. "I need a trophy date."

"I haven't had enough plastic surgery to be a trophy date." Jared folds his hands down on the table.

Jensen throws a sugar packet at his forehead. "Dude, you don't need plastic surgery."

The sugar packet bounces off his forehead, and Jared catches it with his right hand without blinking an eye. "Aw, that's so sweet honey."

Jensen picks up his mug, puts his mouth to the rim. "It'll be fun."

Jared pushes at Jensen's plate. "What, looking at your face in hi-def for two hours?"

Jensen gives him a cocky grin that was all attitude and not much truth. "That too."

Jared's seen the posters all around town, on billboards and along several buildings. Jensen's face plastered across any available surface, and not as airbrushed as he'd have guessed. "You don't have anybody fun to take with you?"

Jensen drains his mug and set it down. He catches the waiter's eye and gestures for the check. "I'm gonna take that as a yes."

Jared sucks a smudge of chocolate off his thumb. "You just better make it worth my while, boy."

Jensen cracks up, grin wide and real and so familiar it makes Jared laugh too.

* * *

Filming on Monday is hectic, one of those days where everything goes wrong, everyone's pissed off, and nothing gets done in a reasonable number of takes. Bob Singer's on set, so he and Jared have lunch together and go over the latest draft of the finale. The season is winding down fast, there are rewrites of the final episode being passed out constantly, and there are still two episodes to go before they film it. Jared's character, Jake, has had an easy season so far, the drama's been mostly about the secondary characters, but that's going to flip right over for the last two episodes. It's going to be a sudden change and his character is about to take an emotional nose dive so Jared concentrates on coming off as a solid, dependable constant so that the audience won't see the crack coming. A part of him thinks it's pretty funny that playing happy is so fucking exhausting when playing doomed and tormented is like slipping into a familiar skin.

Tuesday goes smoother, not as many takes and not as many tempers. Allison has morning sickness like hell all day so they do have to move things around. Jared's last scene of the day isn't one he's had time to actually memorize so he's there a lot longer than he needs to be. He gets another rewrite just as he's heading for his trailer, and he tries his best to smile at the PA who passes it over. Jared doesn't like being the guy who takes a long day out on someone else, but lately it's been hard not to. He drops his prop wedding ring in the dish on the trailer counter, climbs into the track suit he'd worn to the set, grabs his wallet and his script and heads out. He reads the rewrites on the drive home, too tired to try memorizing anything. He hums along to the classic rock station the driver always has on low. The script is getting closer to a final draft. The scenes have been trimmed down and the dialogue's sharper.

He only turns on a few lights when he gets back to his new place, dumping his stuff on the entry table and making a beeline for the kitchen. He opens the fridge door and blinks at the brightness of the light in the pitch black kitchen. There's cold pizza and three Coronas, and it looks like the inside of the fridge in his first apartment. He needs to go shopping or, since he doesn't have a lot of time, have his assistant do it. He hates waiting in the lines at the grocery store. Half the time he's on the cover of one of the tabloids by the ten items or less aisle, and the people around him near sprain themselves doing double takes.

He eats the pizza, downs one Corona, and then collapses on his cold, unmade bed. He buries his face in one of the pillows, which smells like the citrus shampoo he's almost out of. He's still getting used to the bed; it's a bit firmer than the last, better for his back but it makes it harder to sleep because it's not _his bed_ and it's not his house. He rolls over onto his back, looks at the flat white ceiling, and takes deep even breaths. He has early call the next day and hopefully a long night after, so he shifts until he's mostly comfortable, closes his eyes. He silently mouths lines for the next day's scenes, falling into a steady rhythm until they aren't words just syllables, and then he's asleep.

All day Wednesday he's bouncing off the walls. He's driving the crew crazy but they all seem to be smiling in spite of themselves. He has a one-two take day, always hitting his mark and nailing the lines each time. He's getting out early, and his body is thrumming. He can't remember the last time he was excited about a premiere, but it's less about the premiere and more about the solid four hours of complete distraction that he's got coming.

* * *

The car that waits at the edge of Jared's driveway doesn't belong to Jensen. It's not a limo. Jensen doesn't often do limos, since he doesn't go with an entourage and he doesn't like to drink before he gets there. The car's a new model, sharp, and expensive that Jared should be able to name but he was just never as into cars as Jensen was. He knew what he liked and that was good enough.

When he climbs in the back, Jensen's sitting there in a tux that is classic forties Hollywood and looks so good that Jared feels a little uncomfortable in his suit. He takes the seat next to Jensen, stretching his legs as best as he can.

"Hey." Jensen's halfway through a bottle of water, and there's another full one in the cup holder near Jared.

Jared grabs the water, uncaps it, and takes a sip. "You sure it's a good idea, me coming with you?" He leers for effect.

Jensen flicks Jared's knee."There's a new article out about how I'm sleeping with Dakota Fanning, so yes, it is."

Jared snickers but says seriously, "You never comment about those things anyway. So what does it matter?"

Jensen grins. "Yeah, but half the questions are going to be directed at you, so don't think for a minute you're gonna wander off and say hi to people. You're my date tonight, and you're gonna have to earn your way."

Jared laughs, full and loud. "You're still total shit at these things, aren't you?"

Jensen shakes his head, smiling despite himself. "Don't consider that an invitation to grope me in public, okay? We have passed that phase."

* * *

Jared does grope Jensen on the red carpet, mostly because Jensen told him he couldn't. He wraps a leg around Jensen's hips, both arms over his shoulders and is rewarded with a quiet sigh and a resigned, "Seriously, you're an octopus," from Jensen. It's really pretty funny, and he hopes good pictures will show up online, because he hasn't done that in years, and he can see from Jensen's face that it's had the same effect it used to. The guy looks almost relaxed, his smile real and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

It's a face Jared's familiar with, but not one the photographers are. If Jen has a reputation for being cold and difficult, it's only because he's never really acclimated to a thousand flashes blinding his eyes and a half dozen questions a minute about his personal life that he refuses to answer.

Jared figures at the very least, he's given the magazines something to talk about that isn't which way-the-hell-too-young starlet they've decided Jensen is involved with now.

"He's on some TV show," Jensen says to the new talking head for E!, Alicia. She laughs, looks delighted that Jensen Ackles is actually joking with her.

"Only the second highest rated show on television," Alicia says to the camera, and Jensen gives Jared a sidelong look, eyes bright.

Jared takes the unspoken cue, composes his face into a mockery of seriousness, and says, "It's amazing I let myself be seen with this nobody."

"Well, to be fair, I paid him a lot of money to be here," Jensen says, deadpan.

"A lot of money," Jared agrees.

Melissa Rivers interrogates Jensen about his suit, and he's happy to oblige, right down to the maker of his cuff links. The reporter from NBC asks Jensen about the rumors of a relationship with his co-star, and Jensen switches topics without missing a beat.

"You're not, right?" Jared whispers as they move down the line, because he's seen pictures, and Hudgens's on enough drugs to be well into Lohan territory.

"God, no." Jensen grimaces. "The girl can't string two sentences together. And I'm not even sure she remembers _how_ to eat."

Predictably, the guy from _Us Weekly_ tries to get a comment about Dakota Fanning, and Jared extricates them as quickly as possible.

* * *

They get inside, and it's all business, making nice with people who'll give the rags a rude quote if the price tag has enough zeros. Jensen introduces Jared to the director, Grabeel, who's the next big thing with three decent low budget action flicks and two indies on his resume. Jared's heard good things and the guy's genuinely nice, voicing honest appreciation for Jared's show and skills.

Jensen's costars, however, are a mixed bag, and Jensen's stiff and sarcastic during the intros. But Jared's great with people, and he manages to get Jensen to loosen up enough to crack jokes with him like it's nothing.

The lights blink and they take their seats. The movie's intense right from the get-go. Jensen makes a jeans and t-shirt uniform look vulnerable. It feels like there should be another layer for armor. It's a better cop drama than Jared's seen in a long while, the kind of movie that makes your heart race like an action flick, but there's no shoot-outs to be seen, an hour in.

Jensen doesn't seem half as enamored, shifting restlessly in his chair, fingers tapping on the armrest. He's never been good at watching himself.

Jared leans over and whispers, "You cool?" while onscreen Jensen's shouting at his partner.

"You wanna get out of here?" Jensen whispers back.

"Hey, I paid good money to see this movie," Jared says.

"You didn't pay any money."

"Okay, but I'm enjoying it," Jared whispers firmly.

Jensen sighs and slouches down further in his seat, legs sprawled out, knee against Jared's thigh. His hands settle on his stomach, and he doesn't fidget again until the credits roll.

* * *

The after party is held at this new club near the Hilton. The furniture is ridiculously oversized, like this old SNL sketch Jared's mom loved. The chairs dwarf _Jared_, and there are assorted odds and ends across the room; giant cushions and bean bags in one corner and alphabet blocks in the other. Of course, the food comes in smaller portions than normal. Half the crowd is already shitfaced and having a great old time. Jared feels a little sick, his good mood evaporating into the air.

"I should stay an hour," Jensen says, lifting two beers off a passing tray and heading for the mostly abandoned alphabet blocks. He goes to the set farthest into shadows and puts the beers down before using both hands to get himself on the shortest one. He settles, legs hanging over the edge about a foot from the floor. He takes one beer, hands it to Jared, and takes a slow sip from the other.

Jared leans back against the block, looking out at the crowd, his side pressed against Jensen's calf. Jensen braces one hand behind Jared's back, fist pressed against the knobs of Jared's spine.

"Who picked this place?" Jared goes for the obvious question, trying to push down his discomfort.

"Fuck if I know." Jensen shakes his head. "But if this is what's in right now, then I'm glad I'm leaving the country."

"Like you actually care what's in now. I've seen your place," Jared scoffs, taking a sip from his beer. "The beer's not bad."

"Small favors." Jensen sets his drink back down and leans forward, elbows braced on his knees.

Jared looks down at the beer in his hand, foam still clinging to the edges of the glass. "When you leaving for France?"

Jensen sets his beer down and reaches over to squeeze Jared's shoulders tightly. "Sunday. But you can call me, you know."

"I don't need to be hand held or anything, Jen. I'm cool." Jared puts his glass down.

Jen claps his shoulders and then lets go. "You don't have to bullshit me, Jared. I'm not going to tell anyone," he said softly.

Jared closes his eyes, tilting his head back. He can see the bright overhead lights through his closed lids. "I know."

"Okay," Jensen says, so soft Jared barely hears him. "As long as you do."

"I'm just--" Jared opens his eyes, blinking that at the bright light. He jerks his chin down, eyes trained on the floor. "I'm not. I don't know how to--" He takes a breath and steps away from the block. "I'll be okay," he says firmly.

"Yeah." Jen taps the toe of his shoe against Jared's knee. "But you can still call me."

Jared reaches out and flicks Jensen in the middle of the chest, making him jerk back and scowl. "Thanks," Jared says after a moment.

"Anytime." Jensen drains his glass and sets it down next to Jared's, before jumping down. He looks up at Jared, clapping his hands together theatrically. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Jared laughs. "God, yeah. Can we?"

There are fans and paparazzi hovering outside of the club, so they pose obligingly while they wait for the car to be brought around. Once they get inside, Jensen just sinks back into his seat like the last five minutes of constant flash have sucked the life right out of him. "You work tomorrow?" He turns his head to watch the cars passing by through the tinted window.

"Late call." Jared stretches his legs out in front of him, undoes the top two buttons his shirt. "Exterior night shots for the crime of the week." Late night in LA, the streets are still crowded, but the car's going at a good enough clip, heading steadily for the freeway. Out the window, a dozen cars pass in and out of view.

"It's a good show," Jensen says out of the blue, turning his gaze away from the window. "I mean you know that, but it is. I make Liz send me copies when I'm out of the country."

"So that's what you have an assistant for. To nurse your completely inappropriate crush on me."

"And Allison." Jensen says.

"Aw, Alli." Jared loves the girl to pieces, and he's dreading her being out on maternity leave. "Did I tell you about next season?"

"You didn't." The car gets onto the freeway, merging fairly painlessly. "You want to come back to my place? I've got more beer."

"Do you have food?"

Jensen rolled his eyes. "I am prepared for the apocalypse, yes."

* * *

Jared hates filming car scenes. Back in the day, the Impala was roomy enough, and Jake, his character now, drives a truck with a cabin big enough that Jared's knees aren't at his ears. But he's a big guy, and even a car built to hold him just isn't _meant_ to hold him for that many hours. He always has to get out and stretch his legs and his back, and then he's pretty much out of character and has to spend another ten minutes getting back into the zone. It's seriously a bitch; it always has been and always will be. And if he ever gets another script where the car is a 'major character', he's going to toss that fucker right out the window.

Seriously, it's one of the few things that makes him think _they do not pay me enough for this shit_.

Allison, for her part, isn't looking too hot either after three hours on the same scene. They've both been flubbing lines like crazy, and there's five different areas of coverage they're going for, which is ridiculous for a scene shot in the cabin of a pick up. Her back is killing her, one more new thing that's cropped up in the last month, so they're both more concerned with their own physical limitations than they are with the moral argument their characters are having. Funny thing is, of course, that while the lights are being adjusted, she's not rubbing the arch of her spine but the rise of her stomach.

They're setting up the next shot and the director--a new guy they haven't had on set before--is giving them space because his body language is doing more than enough shouting for him. There's a certain status required to go around screaming at the talent to get their shit together, and the guy doesn't have it yet. Jared kind of feels bad about it.

"We need to get our shit together, Mack." Jared wants to drop his head onto the steering wheel, but he doesn't want to have his makeup fixed, so he settles for throwing his arms over the wheel, feeling the muscles along his shoulder blades stretch slow and easy.

Allison slumps against the door, her hair carefully positioned towards the open window probably so no one comes around waving the hair spray. "No kidding, Sherlock. Any advice?"

"Pedeconference," Jared suggests. They both love those, the speed and rhythm of getting lines out while walking a careful line around the interconnected office set.

"Driving to a crime scene, buddy. No walk and talk for us."

"They need to start shooting up places in walking distance from the office," he says.   
She arches an eyebrow, smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "People start shooting up the streets around headquarters, then our characters aren't doing their jobs. Next thing you know, they'll hire a new chief to 'shake things up'."

"And it'll probably be Rosenbaum," Jared intones gravely.

Allison nods, her face drawing into a mask of concern. "And then there will be Jell-O wars and magic marker incidents. And where will that get us?"

"Nowhere," he says solemnly.

"Nowhere," she repeats. She'll be back for the beginning of the season, the cliffhanger leaving Mel damaged enough that shooting around a third trimester stomach won't be impossible. But his 'in the field' shots will be minus her and then the three month maternity leave mid-season. Jared figures that it's shooting the shit like this that he'll miss most while she's gone. He likes the whole cast, but half his scenes and most of his character work is with Allison, so he knows that it's going to be a rough few months.

He turns his head to look out his window, watch as everyone outside their two-seater scurries around. "I'm tired," he says, barely audible. He's not sure if he's telling her or telling himself.

Allison slides a hand over his arm, palm a warm spot through the cotton blend. "It's not going good for you, is it?"

He wants to tell her, let her know before it gets out, before everyone notices the bare space on his left hand. But this isn't the place. He breathes in and out slowly, closing his eyes against the glare of the overhead lights. "Yeah, not my best year."

He'll take her out, he thinks. Lunch maybe, somewhere the paparazzi don't circle around. Or, god, at least his trailer. Somewhere with no microphones, no crew, and no exposition he has to remember in the right order.

"It's March, Jared." She squeezes his arm, her thumb pressing right where the muscles from his shoulder taper in. "You've got time to make it better."

Outside the car it's a chorus of shouts, everybody moving at a steady pace, knowing where they need to be. Jared taps his fingers against the dash, he thinks about his first car, the small cracks the sun made in the plastic. "Summer's coming," he says. He's not sure if it means anything at all.

* * *

 

Jensen's been out of the country for two days when Jared's phone rings. "Hiatus," Jensen says, by way of hello. "You got plans?"

Jared takes the highlighter out of his mouth. "Buying new furniture."

Jensen says gravely, "You have people for that."

Grinning, Jared rolls his eyes, and feels the tightness in his chest ease off. He sets his script aside. "I'm not going to have my assistant pick out my couch for me."

Jensen laughs, the connection so crystal clear Jared can practically feel the warmth of his breath. "I know that. Seriously, you got anything going beyond a trip to Ikea?"

"I'm not buying a couch from IKEA." Jared stands up, stretching his arms out above him, feeling all the tired muscles along his spine. The grass in the yard is getting overgrown, and he has a post-it note on the fridge to call his gardener, but he keeps forgetting. It's something Sandy always did. "Nah, no movies or anything. I figured I should get my life in order."

"Cool." Jensen's smiling, Jared can tell.

Jared is about to ask why, suspicion curling warmly in his belly, when Jensen says, "Hey, hold on." Jared gets the dead space of the hold button and walks down the porch steps, sitting down with his bare toes in the wild grass.

Jensen comes back sounding rushed. "Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Jared runs his open palm over the blades, tickling his palm and sticking on his deep life line. "Yeah, later man."

"Hey," Jensen gets quiet and the bustle of activity fades away. "You're gonna be just fine, you know that right?"

Jared smiles, grabs a fistful of grass like a child, rips it out and lets it float off his hand in the slight breeze. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Jensen breathing. "Yeah. I know."

"Good. I'll call you tonight."

"Au revoir," Jared whispers.

Jensen chuckles, "Yeah, yeah. Au revoir."

* * *

He's asleep when Jensen calls back, and then it's two days of time zone phone tag, because if one of them isn't on set working, then the other one is. He's a little sad about it, but Jensen leaves him long voice mails and sends him two long emails, one of them entirely about French coffee. Jared gets a latte from the set cafe and winces through the whole drink.

On Wednesday, in lieu of any correspondence, Jensen just sends a plane ticket to his email. First class, straight from LAX to Charles de Gaulle. When his call gets shunted to Jensen's voicemail, he just says, "You really that bored?"

* * *

"Come to Paris." Jensen has the frog voice he gets when he's just woken up.

Jared gets up, away from his desk. "Miss me that much?"

Jensen yawns, and Jared can hear rustling in the background, the hitch of breath as clothes are pulled on. "You really going to say no to Paris in the springtime? They put me up in this apartment, and I'm telling you I'm never there."

"Where's the fun in that?" Jared switches off the computer and the lights on his way to his bedroom.

There's another yawn --Jensen never did grow up to be a morning person-- followed by the soft, nearly silent, buzz of an electric razor. "You need out of LA. And, if you time it right, you can be on a whole new continent when the shit hits the tabloid fan."

Jared grimaces, trying not to imagine the headlines and the inevitable finger pointing and personal questions. Irreconcilable differences always sounds like code for adultery, and even if that isn't the case with him and Sandy, it's what everyone will assume. "When you put it that way..."

"And I'm bored." Jensen absolutely says it to make Jared feel better, he has that _tone_ Jared knows too well to mistake. Jared doesn't feel the least bit put out about it.

Jared stands in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at the bare walls and the half-made bed. "Thanks," he says quietly.

Jared hears the razor turns off, and for a long moment Jensen doesn't say anything. He huffs a breath, swallows audibly, and then, "Hire movers if you have to. Just come, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

Jared spends the weekend with Sandy at the house, boxing things up. She's found a smaller place out near the ocean so she's going through her things as well as his. They order pizza for lunch and Chinese for dinner and spend the day laughing over the dust and cobwebs. They divide the pictures evenly, but he presses the wedding album into her hands. He has a photo he's always taken with him on location, and it's the only one he feels like he needs.

"I'll make you a separate one for your family pictures, okay?" She puts the album aside, on the coffee table.

"Sure."

Jared gets her shoes down from the top of the closet because he doesn't want her handling the boot boxes on a ladder. She labels all of his boxes, makes him take the really fragile ones and the set memorabilia home with him on Saturday night. By dinner on Sunday, their lives are mostly split down the middle. His stuff is piled neatly in the den, hers in the living room, and the furniture all has post-it notes on it. The bed and frame are going to Sandy's cousin, but the living room set is going with Sandy, and the best television is going to Jared's. It makes him a little sick to see so many years of his life laid out like that in yellow sticky notes and Sandy's neat printing. Sandy probably feels the same because when he begs off dinner she doesn't protest.

In a few months, a year maybe, he thinks they'll be real friends again without even really trying. They were mostly there already--most of the problem really--but the grief is making it hard for him to speak.

It's two weeks until hiatus, and he spends every lunch break taking a nap, because he spends every night going through all of his boxes. He's got this idea that when he comes back from France he wants to step into this place like it's the beginning of a new life. There will be pieces of the old, but spread out and shuffled in with everything else. He wants a clean break, a new start, and he doesn't want to come back to boxes that are all that's left of his marriage. He calls Jensen every night, listens as Jensen grumbles himself awake and ready for the day. Jensen teases him about one hell of a phone bill, and Jared has his hands on the bracelet of Dean's that he'd traded one of Sam's for.

"What's the point of being a millionaire if I can't torture you every morning?"

Jensen half groans, half laughs, and in the background his buzzer goes off. "My ride's here. Get some sleep, Jay."

"See you soon," Jared replies, as he hangs up.

* * *

The finale script comes, hand-delivered to his trailer, and he has to sign his name three times to get his hands on it. Being a producer means he gets a lot more drafts than he used to, and he's enjoying watching the scripts take shape. He feels like he can appreciate it more when he sees the evolution from A to Z. The finale script in particular has been awesome to watch unfold. The serial killer story's been on the backburner all season, little comments from the side characters on unsolved murders and a slow reveal of a pattern that was finally voiced at the end of the penultimate episode.

There'd been talk, well up until February, about killing off one of the smaller characters but Allison's pregnancy got someone a reprieve and instead her character's taken and won't be saved for a whole summer.

This episode begins mid chase, intercutting the research Jake and Mel are compiling. It's out of order, which isn't the show norm, and Jared can't wait to see how people will react. The entire chase scene is Jake trying to get to Mel and failing. It's a rough shoot, three full days of chase scenes and four days full of increasingly frantic dialogue. But everyone's _on_, hyped by the script and the prospect of summer.

The show is filmed on the Warner lot, and since the beginning, it's felt like old school days. This little cardboard town is the same one he spent years wandering through with _Gilmore Girls_. Stars Hollow for those few years and back to being Midwestern Town on the lot. The house on the corner across from the gazebo is used for the inside of Jake's house and down the small side street is the house used for the exteriors.

It makes him feel like a teenager again and it's a struggle not to inject Jake with more earnestness than's appropriate. Allison likes to laugh at him, quote Alexis's old dialogue as she dances around the gazebo.

It's a nice life he's got, and next year it will feel like it belongs to someone else.

His last scene before hiatus is a one-shot down the lane of Midwestern Town and into one of the houses. They shot the interior scene earlier in the week--Jake finding that Mel's gone. It felt a little like _Supernatural_, honestly, pulling a face of despair and growing horror that was always good for Sam and not so much with Jake. Jake doesn't bring his work home with him.

The running is old hat though, the sureness Jake has that, if he moves fast enough, he can save the day.

It's the last shot of a long day, and Jared sits on the gazebo, watching the crew set up the lights along the street. Allison comes up to the gazebo, hair pulled back, wearing the sweats she came to set at five a.m. in. He slides over to make room for her, "Ready to go?"

She takes the seat, leaning back with one hand, the other settling on the invisible rise of her stomach. "Thought I'd watch you run down the street twenty times and have a good laugh before I left."

He ruffles her hair. "That's real sweet of you."

She flashes him a cheeky smile that fades into a more serious look. "Ben said you're not coming to the wrap party tomorrow."

"I've got a flight in the morning," he admits. He turns his head to look back at the crew.

She doesn't say that it's not like him to skip something like that. She doesn't have to. He's leaving tomorrow and there's no time for coffee or breakfast or to work up a decent speech. He'd kept putting it off, and now he's kind of forced to the point. She's a friend, a close friend, and she deserves not to hear about it from a reporter asking for comment. "I'm getting a divorce."

"Oh Jared."

He steeples his fingers on his knees. "I'll be out of town for the summer."

She reaches over and takes his right hand, covering it with both of hers. "Are you okay?"

He squeezes her hand. "Getting there," he says, because it'll be true eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

Jensen's assistant, Liz, is waiting for Jared when he gets to Charles De Gaulle. She looks aggrieved and is holding up a sign saying _S. Winchester_, in Jensen's handwriting. Jared's chest aches in that good way and he can't keep the smile off his face.

He walks up to her and takes the sign from her hands gently. "Hey, Liz." He folds it under his arm and shifts his duffel bag a little further back. Liz tries to reach for one of his bags, but Jared's not going to let someone half his size carry his luggage, so he shifts away from her pointedly.

"Did you have a good flight, Mr. Padalecki?" she asks, pulling a set of keys from her purse.

"Does he let you call him Mr. Ackles?" Jared follows her out the doors.

She shakes her head. "How was your flight, Jared?"

"Great." Jared gives her a full smile, hoping to coax one out in return. "I slept the whole way."

"Do you want me to drop you off at the set then? Or would you rather just go on to the apartment?"

"I thought it was a closed set."

Liz looks back at him, amusement all over her pale face. "Not for you."

What amuses the hell out of Jared is how freeways everywhere look exactly the same. Same concrete, same dirt, same bunch of assholes cutting each other off. What does change, though, are the cars. Pretty much, Jared figures, he can't really drive anywhere in Europe because he is actually bigger than most of their cars. The set looks to be somewhere at the outer edges of the city, but Jared doesn't exactly have the layout firm in his mind yet. Liz parks the car, then walks him past the security guard and on to Jensen's trailer. The man himself is still filming a scene somewhere, but Liz gets Jared set up with some food from catering, some movies, and the location of Jen's game system.

"He's got a break in about a half hour, so he should be heading back here then." Liz opens the door. "I'm going to send someone ahead to the apartment with your luggage, and I'll be around set if you need me. You've got my number." She'd made him plug her number into his phone on the drive over, a little concerned at his own lack of assistant. Jared has an assistant because he actually can't get to the store on most days and trying to keep his schedule straight is a living hell. He doesn't need to worry about any of those things here so his assistant, Mark, is back in LA enjoying a nice vacation of occasional phone calls, some email forwarding, and helping Sandy with whatever she needs.

"Food'll be by in a minute," she says as she heads out the door. Jared salutes her with his phone. Probably, Jared figures, Jensen warned her about Jared's vacuum of a stomach.

It's closer to an hour later when Jensen finally makes it back to his trailer. He's breathless--he probably ran over--and wearing a grey suit that looks like something Cary Grant would wear, his hair is carefully slicked back. _Time travel movie_ Jared thinks, smirking and giving Jensen a good once over.

Jensen ignores the look and just claps Jared on the shoulder. "You made it."

Jared rolls his eyes and pulls Jensen into a tight hug. "You sent me a ticket," he reminds Jensen.

"Yeah, yeah." Jensen pulls back to get a good look at Jared. "Anybody bring food by?"

"I'm not a bottomless pit!" Jared objects.

Jensen laughs, clapping Jared's arm. "I've been on set for seven hours. I'm fucking starving. It's not always all about you."

The set is like every other, a hundred people running around getting things done, but the food _isn't_. There are baguettes, paninis, and a couple of people making crepes to order. Jensen orders for them both and sends Jared to another table to get the coffee. They go back to the trailer with their hands full. Jensen lays the spread out and then tugs his shirt and tie off.

"Keep spilling on yourself?" Jared takes a bit of crepe and sighs happily.

"Shut up." Jensen grabs a cup of coffee. He takes his seat and digs in. "I've got one more scene, and then I'm good to go. It's not gonna be too long. You good with hanging around?"

"I think I can manage it."

* * *

Jensen has an apartment just a few streets away from the Champs-Elysees, on the Rue de Faubourg de St. Honore. The building is old--of course, it's _Paris_\--but incredibly well maintained. The inside is extravagant, marble staircase and floors, the whole lot. The apartment takes up half the fifth floor, with a long dining room in the front, four bedrooms, and a large main room.

 

The kitchen is the room furthest back in the flat. It's small enough to be cozy but big enough that both of them can fit in it without any manhandling/orchestration. The washer and dryer are there, between the sink and the back door. The washer's good, but the dryer doesn't work for shit, and Jared keeps threatening to buy clothesline to sling from the windows.

The backdoor is older than the front, and clearly there's been less concern about its appearance. The locks are new and state-of-the-art, but the door itself looks out of fashion with the rest of the place, too carved and curved to be modern.

"Fire escape?" he asks, third night in, because he figures he should know and he's starting to want to explore.

"Back entrance." Jensen is freeing a chicken from its innards and giving his all towards not looking repulsed. The butcher's shop had been filled with animals still in their natural state, and they'd both been surprised enough to be really precise in terms of "please no feet, heads or feathers, thank you."

"Huh, cool."

"There's a little courtyard downstairs you can use it to get to, but mostly it's just kind of dark and...."

"Medieval?" Jared suggests, more than a little hopefully.

Jensen smiles, "Yeah, like a freaking dungeon, actually. But I take the trash out that way, so as soon as I'm done with this we'll go down."

The small courtyard is a few steps removed from glory but nothing that Jared hasn't seen before. The back stairwell, though, is something else. It's dark and smells a little like mildew. Jared has to stoop down as he walks through it, but it's foreign in a way that the gleaming front lobby of the building just isn't. It kicks him in the chest, the dank smell of it, the unfamiliar landscape. The simple fact that he's in fucking _Paris_.

The courtyard has a small side gate that leads out to the street backing the building, further from the commotion of the busy main drag. It isn't a place that any photographers would happen upon, and that cinches it for Jared. He badgers a gate key out of Jensen and only goes through the front when he's with Jen.

He almost never sees anyone else taking the back way except a woman and a young girl. He's seen enough designer kids' clothes to know them for what they are, and he's also pretty clear that the woman holding her hand isn't wearing anything near designer. So it's the servants' entrance, apparently, and Jared likes it all the better for it. He always smiles at the woman whenever they cross paths, which isn't more than once a week. Sometimes she smiles back, but she never gives him that look, like she thinks she must know him from somewhere, so he's pretty sure she's smiling because he's a nice guy, not because he's on her TV once a week.

There are ways of blending in with the crowd. It's not easy for either of them. Jensen's a hell of a lot more attractive than your average bear, so-to-speak, and even with a week's worth a beard, sunglasses, and an ugly old trucker hat, he'll turn heads. But he's better at it than Jared. Hiding gorgeous is a hell of a lot easier than hiding six foot-five inches. People always look because they just aren't expecting it.

But even so, there are ways. Cardinal rule, stupid as it sounds, is don't go out with a bodyguard. You walk around surrounded by a bunch of linebackers and it's pretty much like putting it on a billboard. "Rich and famous guy you might recognize right here!" Second is knowing how to dress. There are places you can get away with playing the tourist because the natives will do anything not to catch your eye, but there's a fifty-fifty chance that you're also asking to get mugged, and if you've followed rule number one, then getting mugged is not a place you want to be. So the smart thing is to watch the way everyone else dresses and walks. If you can find the right gait and the right outfit, then people don't give you a second glance. And if no one's looking twice, then no one's looking for autographs and that makes you just another dot in the crowd.

It's not easy, but in a place like Paris it's worth it. Especially because the studio's managed to keep the paparazzi away from Jensen's place by false plants in hotels, and it'd suck to put all that hard work to waste.

* * *

That first week, Jared hits all the big tourist traps. He's been to Paris before, yes, but it still seems like the thing to do. It's early enough in the season that there's not a lot of congestion and not as much of a chance of him being recognized despite his precautions.

He doesn't have a plan, but he has a map in his front pocket and a metro pass in his wallet. He takes the Champs-Elysees up to the Arc de Triomphe, marveling at the cars circling it. He lives in LA, so he's used to the cars, but having a monument at the center of them is breathtaking.

He takes the tunnel under the cars with the rest of the pedestrians to get to the Arc. He walks around it before taking the stairs up to get the view from the rooftop. The view from the Eiffel Tower is better, but this one's still amazing. It's still fucking Paris, as far as the eye can see.

From there it's the Metro to the Louvre. There's a basement entrance he could take, but he's not interested in going inside just yet. He thinks the Louvre is probably going to take up its own week, and he's thinking about spreading the rest of the city's museums out to only one every other week. But he walks the whole outer edge, walks under the arc Napoleon had built, to get to the giant glass pyramid in the center.

That week he goes to Notre Dame--saving the towers for when he can bring Jensen back with him--and Sainte-Chapelle, passing the Conciergerie and the Palais de Justice. He visits the Eiffel Tower and spends a few hours hanging out in its shadow, awed by its size and watching other people be awed too.

He hits the Opera House and St. Sulpice and this mall with a stained glass dome for a ceiling. He passes Pompidou Centre and drags Jensen back to see it that night because he'd completely forgotten.

"Everything's on the outside," Jensen looks at the rows of pipes laid along the outer walls of the building.

"And color coded." Jared holds out the brochure.

Jensen laughs, taking the brochure and smacking Jared's arm with it.

"Gotta love modern art," Jared says feelingly.

Jensen lays a hand on his back, thumb pressed to a knob of his spine. "Getting you to come out here and stay with me wasn't a bad idea, now, was it?"

Jared looks at the building, at the people milling around it, some with maps in hands and some rushing about with bags and phones and their daily lives. He elbows Jensen gently. "You just haven't had time to regret it, yet."

"Regret it?" Jensen scoffs. He pushes Jared down the street, towards a well-lit café, and the metro stop where they came in. "Now I don't have to ask Liz to do my grocery shopping."

"She's still trying to get you to go vegetarian?" He thought she'd given that up a year ago.

"Oh, she's over that," Jensen shook his head. "She just comes back from the store going on about unpasteurized dairy products, and I don't want to know."

"Unpasteurized," Jared repeats.

"I just said I don't want to know," Jensen rolls his eyes. "Not that I asked her to go on in great detail."

They get food at the café, sit outside under the faint stars, and take it all in. "I like Paris." Jared takes the last bite of his baguette.

Jensen lays a hand on Jared's knee and pushes himself up. "Thought you might." He hooks an arm around Jared's shoulders, Jared stooping automatically to make it less awkward, and leads them back home.

* * *

Jared finds a café two streets over that has an open air section, good service, great coffee, and anonymity. He goes almost every morning and sits outside for hours, just watching people pass by. There are a few other regulars, study groups and a few old men with just their newspapers for company, and none of them look at Jared like he's got a familiar face. He sees a lot more dogs than cats, and learns a few words beyond _please_ and _thank you_, but most of the staff speaks English, and he gets the feeling his accent is something awful.

When it veers toward lunchtime, he ventures out into the city. He tries Chinese food, Thai, Indian, and Italian. Eggs are better on pizza than he'd have guessed, and cider is the best drink to have with a ham and cheese crepe. He finds a great little crepe place in the Latin Quarter where the special is a cider and crepe for cheap, and it's not like he needs to save the money, but it's neat to sit there with the college kids and the workers on a quick lunch break and just _be_.

 

He walks along the Seine, takes pictures of pink-flowered trees behind Notre Dame, the river, and the Eiffel Tower in the distance. He has a mental list of places he's going to drag Jensen to, because the guy's all work and sleep and hasn't been _enjoying_ Paris at all. He spends a few days at Montmartre, buying paintings to send to his family, and climbing to the top of Sacre Coeur to see the city from the great height of the hill. He puts Moulin Rouge on the list, not because it looks any more like a place to be, but because he knows Jensen'll think it's hilarious too.

Not having a car is weird, though Jensen's got a Mercedes rental he can use when he wants to. But taking the Metro, once he's used to the smell and the warnings of pickpockets on the train, is fun. Each stop has a different look, a different sign and tone. The one closest to the apartment is art nouveau, and he knows Sandy has a picture frame made to look like it.

He shops at the basement-level grocery section of Monoprix, which, near as he can tell, is the French version of Target. He buys milk in a box, yogurt that's not sour, and this granola chocolate cereal that Jensen's addicted to. Occasionally he'll wander through an open air market, but he's pretty content with the normal conveniences and anyway, the market's better with company.

* * *

Jensen comes in through the back door, take-out in one hand, phone in the other. "Sure, sure, yeah," he says, waving at Jared after he puts the take-out on the counter. "But I still think I'm going to go with--" Jensen cuts off with a grimace and waves his hand around to say 'won't shut up'.

Jared grabs two plates from the cupboard and starts unpacking the bags. Chinese again, unsurprisingly. Jensen's developed a thing for the French version of Chinese food.

Jensen grabs two beers from the fridge and uncaps them. "Okay, Rick. I hear you, but it's still no." Jensen rubs his face with one hand. "Really. I'll talk to you later. Yeah. Goodbye Rick." The last is said forcefully, and Jensen shoves his phone to the end of the table.

"Rick really wants you to take a part instead of taking a vacation." Jared's just guessing.

Jensen takes a swig from his beer. "He's a good agent--gotten me a hell of a lot further than anyone else--but he's a jackass sometimes."

Jared tipped his beer in Jen's direction. "I hear that."

Jensen digs into his food, brow furrowed. He's pale, freckles bold in the overhead lights, and he has the frustrated look to his eyes that always means he's running straight at his breaking point.

"You've got tomorrow off." Jared licks sauce from his thumb.

Jensen watches him warily. "Right."

Jared shrugs, "You look like you could use a real drink. And maybe a bar fight."

Jensen smirks, leaning back in his chair. "We have a rule against any more bar fights, remember?"

"I found a bar that has decent beer on tap and no paparazzi out front." Jared says it like he's dangling a carrot on a stick.

Jensen looks pleased. "I knew I kept you around for a reason."

* * *

The bar is a little pretentious, but the staff isn't. There's modern art all along the walls, but the furniture's comfortable and the music's decent. It's pretty crowded but, like Jared was betting on, they aren't the crowds Jen hates. No one's crushing into them; no one's interrupting conversations or asking for autographs. Jensen loosens up enough that he calls some guys from the set and they build up a little crowd of their own. Everyone's telling stories and buying rounds. Jensen's drunk enough that he's laughing too loud at everything but still sober enough to tell the taxi where to go.

"More shots?" He has to lean in close for Jensen to hear.

"More shots." Jensen reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

Jared puts a hand on his arm. "I've got it." He pats Jen's arm once and heads for the bar.

He's waiting for the drink when she catches his eye. She's tall, taller than Jensen probably. He'd figure her for a model except for the way her hips move when she walks and the bare makeup on her face. She has command of the room, all eyes on her stomach and the full breasts above. She knows the crowd, is waving to someone as she walks to the bar.

When he catches her eye she smiles at him, and he feels an electric thrill run over him. _Maybe._

It's been ten years since he's been with anyone but Sandy, so he feels awkward at first. He tries to make small talk, and she's interested enough to give him more than a few openings. He brings the round of drinks and Yvette back to the table. He introduces her around and the group's cool enough not to make any comments or shoot him any looks. That alone tells him how long it's been since he went home with a girl who wasn't Sandy. All of his friends are mature now.

Jensen makes a shooing motion at him and gets involved in a serious discussion of Clooney movies with several of the guys at the table. Yvette puts her hand on his back as they leave the bar.

Her breasts feel small in his hands, her body too long under his, and the way she arches her back is so breathtakingly unfamiliar. Her voice is low and she curses every time he hits a sweet spot, _merde_ over and over when he gets the hang of her body.

When he comes, he says, _fuck_ and doesn't say anything else. He used to whisper against Sandy's throat, tell her things she already knew, praise every inch of her skin. He liked saying her name, would catch his breath between the syllables and listen to her laugh.

He pulls his clothes on and takes the number Yvette scribbles down for him. They both know he won't call, but it's the polite thing to do on both their parts. She doesn't get out of bed before he leaves.

Jensen's still up when he comes home, sitting on the couch front of the TV, wearing a white t-shirt, plaid boxers and his glasses. There's a full glass of water on the coffee table. The AC is turned up high again; Jared thinks twice before he shrugs his jacket off and throws it on the empty chair. "Why're you still up?"

Jensen mutes the TV. "Was hungry when I got back so I made a sandwich and there was a marathon of your show on. Four a.m, man, which is just sad."

"It's just not that big here." Jared digs around in the cupboards until he finds where Jensen moved the coffee. He pulls out the bag and one of the filters. "Which is probably okay because don't the French love--shit, who was it? Hasslehoff?"

"Hasslehoff was big in Germany, I think. The French loved Jerry Lewis."

"Right, Jerry Lewis." Jared got down two mugs. "My mom liked Dean Martin better."

Jensen comes into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "I still don't get how they got to be partners. Someone that cool with someone that not? Though, okay, people probably wonder the same thing about us."

"Right," Jared nods. "You're just such a dork it's amazing I can be seen in public with you."

Jensen snorts as he pulls out a chair and sits at the table. He drums his fingers on the wood and keeps his eyes on Jared as he grabs the box of Cruesli cereal out of the cupboard. "You feel any better?"

Jared grabs two bowls and empties the box into them. "Not really," he shrugs. "It's jut sex, you know?"

"Sex with somebody who isn't Sandy." Jensen says quietly.

"Yeah," Jared rubs his forehead and stares at the coffee pot, slowly filling up.

"I'm just saying." Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jensen shrug. It has always felt, right from that first 'hello', that he's known Jensen his whole life. And Jared has a moment where his chest goes tight, because Jensen has never known him when he wasn't with Sandy.

He gets the milk, pours it in with the cereal, and passes a bowl to Jensen. "It was just a thing," he says, setting his own bowl down at the seat across from Jen's. He turns around, leaning on the counter, looking at the coffee fill the pot.

"It's not--" Jensen shakes his head. "Okay, I'm fucking this up."

Jared turns his head so he can look Jen in the eye. "You're not, man."

Jensen gets up out of his chair, walking around the table opposite from Jared to get to the silverware. "You don't have to talk to me. But you can. That's all I'm saying."

Jared holds his hand out for a spoon. "I know."

Jensen drops the spoon into his waiting palm. "Rebounds aren't ever as good as you think they'll be."

The coffee pot lets out a small beep, signaling it's done. Jared sticks his spoon in his mouth so he has his hands free to grab the coffee and pour. He nods at Jen and shoos him back to his seat with a grunt as he sets down the first mug by Jensen's cereal. He feels looser, wilder, less bound by his life. But he doesn't feel better.

* * *

Jared doesn't bother trying to get close to the Mona Lisa. The thing with being his height is having to be aware of the fact that people just can't see over you. He stands near the back of the crowd and manages to get a pretty decent look. It isn't as impressive as he was expecting. And it's fucking tiny. Sure, she has a great smile, but he's seen it on TV, in posters, and on t-shirts his whole life. It's disappointing, actually, and he has to hope the rest of the world's great masterpieces won't be the same.

He still has a few more days worth left and the Musee d'Orsay too.

He's moved back through the oncoming crowd of pilgrims when his phone comes cheerily to life, piping out KC and the Sunshine Band. Jared blanches, grabbing it from his pocket quickly with clumsy hands and turning it on. "Hey, Jen," he whispers.

"Bad time?"

Jared hustles down the hall and out one of the doors into a garden. "No, it's cool. I'm at the Louvre and the Da Vinci crowd isn't too fond of 70s music."

"Please tell me that's not still my ring tone."

Jared blithely ignores him. "What's up?"

Jensen coughs. "I'm having a crappy day."

Jared frowns, following the path further out from the building. "Everything okay?"

"Nothing's _wrong_," Jensen says quickly. "I'm just covered in fake blood, had to do the last scene fucking forty-two times, and I fell wrong on one of the stunts so I've got this bruise on my thigh already."

"Shouldn't they be sending you home?"

"It's really just a bruise. And we've only got Clooney for the next two days."

"I'm sorry, man."

"Is there anything at the Louvre that won't be there tomorrow?"

Jared turns right around, heading back for the museum. "Want me to grab you coffee before I get there?"

"How about I have it waiting for you instead, huh?" He can hear Jensen's smile, the way his voice is suddenly looser and deeper. "Maybe a crepe or something?"

"Fuck that," Jared ducks back inside, making for one of the exits. "I know you've got Cadbury in your trailer."

* * *

True to his word, there's a cappuccino waiting for Jared in Jensen's trailer. It's a huge cup, steaming still, and it smells like heaven.

"Always smells better than it tastes." Jensen is leaning back on his couch in an undershirt and his boxers. He's holding an icepack against the mottled red skin of his thigh.

"I'm betting this tastes better than it should, though." Jared picks the cup up and takes the chair to Jensen's right. He kicks his feet up onto the small table. "That's gonna look ugly tomorrow."

"It's not gonna win me any beauty contests as it is." Jensen settles back against the pillow, braced on the arm of the couch behind him. "I get a three-day weekend out of it, though. After Clooney wraps I'm getting an extra day off while the crew gets location shots."

"You swing that because you're a diva?" There are three Cadbury bars on the table, stacked like dominoes by Jared's feet.

"I swung it because I almost fucking cried in public." Jensen rolls his head to look at Jared and gives him a lazy smile.

"You on anything?" Jared thinks he looks a little too relaxed to be in the middle of filming.

Jensen shakes his head and reaches for a water bottle with his free hand. "Aspirin and the ice pack. I'm not gonna film close-ups with my pupils blown. Not the kind of publicity I need."

Jared reaches out, rests his hand against the hard line of Jensen's shoulder. The muscle is hard, knotted under his grip. "You don't even need publicity anymore, do you?"

"I tried telling my agent that, and he had a little nervous breakdown." Jensen closed his eyes. There's blood on the right side of his face, artfully splashed across his nose and down by his mouth. It's makeup, of course, and not an unfamiliar sight for Jared.

"What scenes are you shooting today?" He runs his thumb over the curve of Jensen's shoulder bone, feeling the dip of the joint.

"We finally finished the bit in the fifties where Clooney leaves me high and dry and in an hour, when they've finished the lighting, it'll be sixty-four where he kills my wife." Jensen brings the hand not on his ice pack up to gesture at his face. "See the splatter?"

Jared smiles, "I can't believe fucking Clooney is your bad guy mastermind."

Jensen takes the icepack off his leg and sets it on the table. "It's a damn good part."

"I know man. I've read the script three times already. It's all good." Jared takes a sip from the cup and the coffee tastes rich and just the right side of bitter.

Jensen sits up, swinging his legs off the couch with a wince. "Thank you. For coming down."

"Don't thank me, ass." Jared waves him off. "You're letting me stay at your place. The least I can do is come and see your ugly mug sometimes."

Jensen picks up one of the candy bars off the table and opens it up. He breaks off a chunk before passing it to Jared. "I have to cry for the next four hours and I do not have that kind of energy."

Jared holds his cup out. "Drink."

Jensen bites into the chocolate. "I can get my own coffee, man."

Jared pushes the cup into Jensen's hand and Jensen takes it with a roll of the eyes. "What you need," Jared says, already smiling at the memory, "is to buy yourself a pet. So you can find the right motivation to sob your little heart out."

Jensen barks out a surprised laugh. "Fuck, I'd almost forgotten about that. You almost making yourself sick thinking about Sadie and Harley."

Jared taps the cup. "They were good dogs."

Jensen obligingly takes a drink. "That they were."

"I've always thought you could use a pet." Jared bites into the chocolate bar in his hand.

"I've got other things to think about losing that'll make me cry a lot harder than a cat that I'm never home to see." Jensen rubs his hand absently over the raised red skin of his thigh. "I'm just not feeling it today. Not enough sleep or something."

Jared steals the coffee out of Jensen's hand, takes a long drink and then passes it back. "Want to walk through the scene with me? See if it helps?"

Jensen shakes his head, sets the coffee down and leans back into the couch. "Got a better idea. You tell me all about the Louvre, and I'll sit here with my eyes closed, pretending to listen."

Jared raises his eyebrows. "Energy through osmosis?"

Jensen arches an eyebrow. "When did you start using big words?"

Jared breaks off another piece of the chocolate bar and shoves it into Jensen's mouth. "Don't be a dick." He stands up, steps over the small table and sits down on the couch next to Jensen. He sits close, arm resting against Jensen's, thighs touching, but careful of the raw side. He picks the ice pack up, rests it against the angry flesh and then settles back. Jensen tilts to the right a little, pressing against him.

Jared slips an arm over Jensen's shoulder, bracing his head away from the wall. "The thing about being tall - and I know you would have trouble understanding, but--"

Jensen smacks his thigh, and then leaves his hand there, knuckles curling against the tip of his kneecap.

Jared grins. "The thing is, that standing in front of a painting is kind of rude, seeing as how you block the whole thing from view. So when I saw that crowd around the Mona Lisa, man, I didn't even try. My mama raised me better than that."

Jensen smiles, but he doesn't open his eyes. Jared runs his thumbs over the curve of Jensen's shoulder, the muscle slowly giving way and loosening under his touch. "Figure tomorrow I'll go check out the Eiffel Tower. Can't block that from view, now can I?"

* * *

When the PA knocks on the door, Jen's been asleep a good forty-five minutes, face tucked into Jared's neck. Jared's shoulder is numb and Jensen's breath tickles, but he doesn't mind. He nudges his shoulder, jostles Jensen's head oh so gently until he gets a grunt and Jensen pulls away.

"Think you gotta get to wardrobe," he says.

Jensen nods, bleary-eyed, and pushes himself up, making a pained face. Jared gets up, holds out the pair of jeans that had been tossed over the back of the chair. Jensen pulls them on, yawning, and Jared tags along to wardrobe. Jensen gets back into the same suit Jared's been seeing him in, tight, tapered at the ankles, looking for all the world like he's stepped out of an Ed Sullivan appearance. His hair had been plastered to his head and after a bit more hairspray and a light coating of face powder Jensen's good to go again. He drags Jared to the set, makes him sit in Jensen's chair and says, offhandedly, to Clooney, "You know Jared right?"

Jared has seen him in passing a few times, but it's not like they've ever had a good one-on-one. Clooney smiles, says, "Yeah, nice to see you again, Padalecki."

Ridley Scott claps his hands together, getting everyone's attention, and then it's off to the races. Anne Hathaway is playing Jensen's wife, their fourth movie together, and Jared's pretty sure it's mostly stunt casting. It's a small role, but the public really seems to like them together--Sandy _adored_ all three movies, to the point that Jared could quote a good half the dialogue--so her death, even though it's pretty early on, will have a deep impact. Also, she acts her fucking socks off in the scene, coughing up blood like she really just can't breathe, clawing at Jensen's shirt as he cries. When she goes still, mouth open and red against Jensen's collar, Jared's chest hurts.

Clooney plays it low key, reasonable in his heartlessness, and his restraint really sells the scene, brings it home. The script is good, one Jared would have snagged in a heartbeat, but seeing it all come together, watching the subtle play of emotions over Jensen's face, the way his fists clench white while he struggles to keep his voice steady. If it weren't a movie about time-travel Jared thinks he'd have another nomination in the bag.

* * *

Jensen's favoring his leg pretty badly the next morning, wearing a pair of pants that look old and soft as anything. He comes into the kitchen just after Jared gets back from his run. It's a lot earlier than Jared's expecting because the next two days are night shoots and he kind of figured on not seeing Jen until Clooney's on a plane to Italy. Jensen sets two aspirin on the counter while he pours a glass of water and after he downs them he mumbles, "Hi."

"Morning," Jared says. "How bad's the bruise?"

"Worse than the time I slid off the hood of the Impala," Jensen smiles faintly.

Jared remembers the slide, the fall, the cursing, and the uncontrollable laughter. And even if he didn't, there's a gag reel with the whole thing. "When do you have to be on set?"

Jensen downs the aspirin. "Eleven-thirty makeup."

Jared gets up from the table. "Forget your cereal. Let's go get breakfast." He moves off down the hallway to his room.

"That involves getting dressed!" Jensen shouts.

"Was gonna have to happen eventually!" Jared takes off his workout clothes, finding clean jeans and an unwrinkled t-shirt. He harasses Jensen until the guy finds his wallet.

It's a short walk to the café, but Jared suggests the car because Jensen's limping. Jensen waves him off with, "Just have to let the muscles warm up", and pushes Jared out the back door.

They get Jared's usual table, and he has fun whispering to Jensen the names and temperaments of the patrons and staff alike.

The amount of caffeine Jared's imbibed over the last two months should have his heart on a constant state of alert, but instead it's like he's acclimated. It takes two or three espressos before he even feels it. He's wondering if it's an abuse of power and waste of fame to drag a French barista back to America. Because he fucking loves the coffee here. He's got a favorite drink at a favorite shop and yeah, it's something he has a twin of at home but here it feels decadent. Here he gets to spend _hours_ sitting at a table, drinking, reading, thinking, relaxing. It's weird to think that when he'll look back on this summer, he'll probably remember this cafe the most vividly.

Jensen orders hot chocolate. He gets three calls and a half dozen text messages before their drinks arrive.

"You avoiding someone?" Jared picks at his napkin.

"Rick," Jensen takes his phone out and hits a few buttons. "He knows I have the day off, and he wants to talk projects with me."

"Good agent." Jared's agent, Anne, has strict instructions not to call him until July. If there's a part she can't bear to let him pass by, then she's allowed to email. Jared hasn't checked his email in a week.

"He's persistent," Jensen agrees.

The waiter brings over their drinks and after he leaves them Jared asks, "So what's the project he's so insistent about?"

"They sent me a script for a new Alamo."

Jared sets his cappuccino down. "Okay, see, that could be amazing."

Jensen swallows a bit of croissant. "I could put in a good word for you."

Jared hasn't achieved crossover status, and everyone he knows keeps saying the same shitty thing. He's a movie star, all right; he just has to find the right vehicle. Like he hasn't fucking tried. "The script's good?"

"It's the _Alamo_. You think I'd be interested if I thought I was going to embarrass myself?"

Jared gives him a look.

"Fuck you," Jensen laughs. "Really though, you and me? It'd be good. We could even use our real accents for once."

Jared taps his fingers on the table, smiling. "I don't even remember my real accent."

Jensen picks his mug up. "One week filming in Texas and you won't be able to remember anything else."

* * *

Jared decides he likes the sculpture gardens at the Louvre best. He takes dozens of pictures, angled to make things look bigger or more menacing than they actually are. He gets a shot that makes it seem like the once-bronze warrior is about to clock the camera, and he sends it to Chad.

Chad sends back "Are you cool?"

Jared feels like shit because he hasn't talked to Chad since before all this started, and he really should have. He calls, and Chad's groggy and uncooperative with the nine hour time difference, but they talk long enough that Chad's assured of Jared's sanity and Jared's assured that Chad's not completely pissed at him.

* * *

 

Jensen bitches a lot, but he's showered, dressed, and out the door by eight a.m. The towers haven't opened yet, but there's already a small line. Jared drags Jensen to it.

"I could probably have gotten us an after-hours tour. So we wouldn't have to wait in line with all these nice people," Jensen whispers in Jared's ear.

The couple in front of Jared reeks of heavy powdery perfume and cigarette smoke. They're Americans, the kind of loud, obnoxious ones that make Jared flush with embarrassment. He elbows Jensen hard. "We're tourists today, remember?"

Jensen pulls his baseball cap further down his forehead. "Okay, well if at any point during the day you decide that this was a bad plan, just feel free to say so."

Jared almost says so once they get to the stairs. A winding staircase is manageable, but, add in the fact that it just isn't built for a guy his size? It takes a while to get to the top.

"We totally almost got run over by those elderly women," Jensen says amiably, walking over to the ledge.

"I have big feet, and the steps are fucking tiny." Jared scowls. "Shut up."

Jensen takes the camera from Jared's pocket and pushes him close to one gargoyle. "Pose," he orders.

Jared poses obligingly, the requisite serious and ridiculous pictures, bunny ear-ing the gargoyle before stealing his camera back and getting pictures he can sell to the rags if his career ever crashes.

The bell tower is smaller than he expects, one door particularly hard to get through without bending in half. Jensen tells him about a terrible Hunchback script he'd read once and mockingly recites what little dialogue he can remember. What Jared knows of the story comes from a vague memory of listening to his mother read aloud, and the Disney movie his sister spent one summer obsessing over.

"Sanctuary" is the thing he remembers most, and he imagines it, the loneliness of looking out at the city of people below and never being able to reach them. "I didn't cheat on her," he blurts out, surprising them both.

Jensen's mouth twists, and he grabs Jared by the arm, pulling him back outside and over to an unoccupied corner. "Jesus, Jared. Did you think I didn't know that?"

"I don't know, yes?" Jared runs a hand roughly through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "I felt like I needed to say it."

Jensen frowns. "You're the most loyal guy I know, Jared."

"That doesn't mean—"

Jensen put his left hand on Jared's shoulder, thumb notched on his clavicle. "It's _okay_ to not be in love anymore."

Jared breathes in and out twice. He keeps his eyes on Jensen's chin. "I'm kind of a mess," he admits.

"Yeah." Jensen puts his right hand on Jared's other shoulder and squeezes. "You're probably gonna be for a while."

Jared nods, not sure what to say.

"You wanna go?"

Jared shakes his head and wipes at his face. "I planned this whole day. No nervous breakdowns allowed."

Jensen frowns. "Jared."

Jared smiles, "Really. I know. I gotta keep moving, Jen. So come on and move with me."

They finish Notre Dame and move to Sainte Chapelle. From there, Jared takes Jensen to his favorite crepe place where they have too many ciders and talk too loud for a good long while.

Jared made reservations at the Eiffel Tower for dinner, so they wander that area for a little while before taking the elevators to the top.

"Pretty amazing." Jensen stands right in front of the small red dot on the glass wall, representing the direction of Los Angeles. "What man can do, you know?"

"Come on," Jared grabs his hand. "Still got the last flight of stairs."

They get outside, Jensen swearing at the wind and the sheer scope of the view. Jared presses himself against the metal wall and takes a picture of Jensen and the city beyond him. He looks terrified and exhilarated all at once, and he's got the best smile on his face.

Jared trades places with him, hands the camera over, and smiles as wide as he can. He thinks, _Yeah. It's going to be just fine._

 

* * *

Jensen fumbles with his keys, wheezing from trying to keep his laughter down, and gets the back door open. Jared shuts it behind them, and Jensen's half bent over with a full belly laugh.

"Sure, sure. Real funny." Jared tries to act sore about it, but Jensen laughing like that is rare enough to conquer anything. And anyway, Jared's never been the type to be real concerned with embarrassment. It's a familiar laugh, one he misses so hard some days, and watching Jensen--the way the corners of his eyes crinkle and his smile spreads full blown over his face--is enough to make his chest hurt.

Jensen wipes at his face, clearing away a few tears of giddy joy, and finally gets the fridge door open. He pulls out two small containers, the yogurt that wasn't really yogurt, and Jared grabs the two spoons.

"It's pretty pathetic, you know. Sitting in your kitchen, eating foofy yogurt, after spending the day wandering Paris."

Jensen grabs the yogurt back out of Jared's hand.

"Hey!" Jared objects.

"You asked for it." Jensen puts both his and Jared's back in the fridge.

"I didn't ask for anything."

Jensen grins. "Whatever."

Jensen knows this bar, right off St. Honore, that's got an upstairs VIP section with a dance floor and a clientele that leaves them alone. It's in walking distance, and probably Jared will never be so old that a good bar in walking distance won't be a godsend.

Jensen doesn't call any of the guys on the way, so it's just the two of them at the table, drinking, and laughing, and retelling old, familiar jokes.

Jared volunteers to get the third round, leaves Jen at the table, and heads for the bar. He squeezes in between two other guys and has to wait for the bartender to get to his side of the bar. He places his order and notices that the man to his right is watching him.

The guy has light brown hair, bright green eyes, and this smile that makes heads turn. He's a notch above the crowd, and he meets Jared's eye calmly, a hunter with his sights trained.

"Philippe." He has a strong, solid handshake. He looks at Jared's mouth, and then up at his eyes.

"Jay," Jared says without thinking.

Philippe is a friend of the owner and works in real estate, handling expensive properties and top notch clientèle. He doesn't tell Jared this in an arrogant way, but in the offhanded way that means it's a fact of life and not his selling point. He has a wide full mouth that Jared wants to touch every inch of, and if his smile is any indication, Philippe's not opposed to the idea himself.

Philippe glances towards the back, the men's room sign well-lit. Jared follows his gaze and considers. Before Sandy, he went through a phase, new in Hollywood, and stretching himself every which way. He slept with a few guys back then, seeing what he wanted, and trying to figure out who he was.

He didn't stop sleeping with guys because he didn't like it. He stopped because he liked Sandy more.

Someone taps his arm and Jared looks over to see Jensen at his side, nodding towards the front door. "I'm gonna head out."

"Oh, uh." It makes Jared's breath catch, and he's sober enough to see the similarities. And to recognize the lines he shouldn't cross. He draws a blank for a full second, words not making sense and then he rights himself. "Just let me settle the tab."

Jensen furrows his brow. "You don't have to leave."

Jared turns from him to smile at Philippe. "It was nice to meet you."

The man doesn't look pleased, but he smiles back, and ducks away politely all the same. Jared signs off on his bill, gets his card back, and then lets Jensen lead the way out.

"You could have gone home with him," Jensen says, when they've turned the corner back onto St. Honore.

"I wanted to go home with you." Jared shrugs.

"He recognize you?" Jensen looks confused, like he thinks there has to be a better reason than the one Jared already gave him. He gets the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the gate to the back courtyard.

"No, I don't think so," Jared follows him through the courtyard and up the back stairwell. When they get inside the flat, Jared thinks to ask, "Why would it matter?"

Jensen shrugs his jacket off. "Just figured you better be careful is all."

Jared locks the door. "What's that mean?"

Jensen kicks off his shoes, picks them up and heads for his bedroom. "Well, look. You want to come out, be my guest. It's not bad nowadays. But if you do it now, the big story will be that your wife left you because you're gay."

Jared leans back against the counter and tries really hard not to get pissed off. "You know that's not what happened."

Jensen comes back into the kitchen in just his t-shirt and boxers. "I know that, but I'm not everybody."

Jared opens his mouth to reply, but Jensen holds up a hand. "Seriously. All I meant was I just think you should be careful. You don't want to rebound so hard you hit the front page."

* * *

Bob Singer's on the short list of people who actually know where Jared is and he'd sworn up and down he wouldn't call unless it was actually important. So when his name comes up on Jared's phone just after dinner, Jared excuses himself from Jensen's group of friends and goes to his room to answer. "Hey, Bob."

"We've got a small problem," Bob says, not bothering with the bullshit. "Allison's been put on bed rest."

Jared sits on his bed, toeing off his shoes. "She okay?"

"The doctors think she'll be fine, but it means that with maternity leave and everything, she won't be back until January, at the earliest."

Jared scratches the back of his neck. "Well, shit."

"The writers are going to start back early and rework the structure for the season. We have a plan; I'll email you details when we have them a little more solid. But I wanted you to know."

"Yeah. Thanks, you know, for handling all this while I'm gone." He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. "Should I change my flight?"

Bob makes a gruff noise. "No need. There's nothing you need to be here in person for. Just be sure to check your email and touch base if anything comes up on your end."

"Will do," Jared nods, even if Bob can't see him. He doesn't figure it hurts.

"You doing okay?"

Jared smiles. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Good. I'll call you next week, unless something else happens."

"Thanks. Talk to you later." Jared hangs up the phone and then dials Allison's number.

She answers on the third ring. "I've been ratted out already?"

"You feeling okay?" Jared gets up and closes his door, lessening the noise from the dinner party.

"I'm feeling fine. My doctor's just being a drama queen." She sounds defiantly cheerful.

"You sure?" He unlocks and opens his window so he can get to the shutters.

"Yes," she says firmly. "I get a free pass to watch TV for the next four straight months. It's great from that perspective."

He latches the shutters closed. "A win-win, huh?"

"Sure!" She laughs. "I'm allowed to get fat and relax. I'll never go back to work once I get used to this kind of treatment."

He closes the window with a sigh. "Alli."

She sighs back, sounding annoyed and frustrated. "I'm sorry. I know this is going to suck for you."

Jared snorts. "You don't get to apologize to me. You just have to promise to follow doctor's orders. I want you back in top shape, okay?"

"Yes, sir!" He can almost see the salute.

He laughs. "Great. Just great."

"How're the French treating you?"

"Good. And Jensen doesn't suck too bad either." He tells her about getting passed on the stairs by senior citizens and about Jensen's movie. It's nice to hear her voice and he feels good for making her laugh. She sounds better when they finally hang up, none of her cheer forced. And Jared goes back to the party only a little less lively than he'd been.

The new plan is to have Allison's character, Mel, be held by the serial killer until Allison's good to come back. Jared gets a few emails detailing how that had precedence with the cases that had been presented before. He throws out a few ideas for the general season breakdown that has to be reworked and calls Bob more than a few times over the next week.

It's July before he gets to finish up his tourist list. He gets Jensen to spend the day at Versailles with him, both of them decked out in ball caps and horribly obvious, because passing for nobodies together is pretty much a no-go. They sign autographs and then escape out to the long garden. They walk along the small lakes and try to decide who they know that would build something quite as ostentatious.

"Tom would have a hall of mirrors," Jensen argues, and Jared makes him agree that way back when Tom would have, but that his head had gone back down with age so now, probably not.

"Maybe you should get a hall of mirrors," Jared says, when they get back to the car.

Jensen shakes his head and points to the lines at the outside of his eyes. "Laugh lines, man. No hall of mirrors for me."

Jared leans over the hood of the car and raises both his eyebrows. Jensen grins and the lines are abundant, stretching out from the corners of his eyes. "You never looked better," Jared says and means it.

Jensen rolls his eyes but Jared can tell he wants to smile.

* * *

It's Jensen's idea to go to the Pere Lachaise Cemetery. "We've got to see Morrison's grave."

Morrison's grave is a disappointment, nothing special about it but the graffiti. There are other graves, though, rows of them that are nothing short of art. Cloaked statues weeping against mausoleums, and carved representations of the dead, laid out on stone. There's a row for those who didn't survive the Holocaust, and they make Jared's stomach turn with their horror and beauty.

"Do you think Oscar Wilde would have wanted a giant winged guy on his tomb?" Jared can't figure out if he thinks it looks cool or not.

Jensen thinks about it and finally comes up with, "Well, it makes an impression."

Jensen insisted they buy flowers before they came, said it was only right, and Jared leaves them at graves here and there and feels better for it. They both leave flowers for Morrison.

"It's a rite of passage," Jensen says.

"Aren't we both a little old for that?" Jared puts his flowers beneath the small picture of Morrison that someone had left behind.

"A pilgrimage?" Jensen tries instead.

"Better," Jared agrees. He holds the map out and tries to figure out which way is out.

* * *

The last scene filmed is actually the first scene in the script. Jensen standing alone in the pouring rain, looking up at the sky.

There are a few takes of running beforehand, which has Jared grinning from ear to ear. Changing your walk is one thing. It takes focus but it's not impossible and sometimes it's just the thing that cinches the character. Knowing how someone walks can tell you a hell of a lot.

Running is altogether different. Sure, you _can_ change it, but it's more trouble than it's worth mostly. It takes an absurd amount of concentration, and it takes away from everything else. Start trying to run like another person and dialogue gets fucked up, blocking's a lost cause, and you look like a complete ass. So, generally speaking, how you run is how you run, end of story.

Watching Jensen run under the rain machines going full tilt is so familiar, so like old times, that Jared has to keep himself from jumping up and running with him. At the end of eight takes Jensen is all pleas and clasped hands, big eyes, and a lot of labored laughing. Scott waves him off to prep the last scene, and Jensen collapses into the chair next to Jared's and says, "Not a word, man."

Jared reaches out, flicks Jensen in the arm, but says nothing. He lets Jensen catch his breath in companionable silence.

The last scene is quiet. There's no dialogue, no explosions or pages of blocking. Jensen closes his eyes, swallows, opens them again and tilts his head up to look at the overcast sky. He doesn't blink under the heavy curtain of water.

It's a still, slow shot that makes Jared feel restless. His skin crawls, partly out of sympathy because, though it's warm outside he knows the water is damn cold.

In person it's uncomfortable, too personal and too close.

But on the third take Jared gets himself near a monitor, and fuck if it doesn't look like magic on screen. Unsettling, with a terrible melancholy still. But definitely magic.

Jensen bumps against him after, covered in towels as he makes his way back to the trailer. "What're you thinking, big guy?"

Jared reaches out, runs his fingers through Jensen's slick hair. "Who in the Foreign Press I have to buy off to get you that Golden Globe."

Jensen socks him in the arm and then opens the trailer door and lets Jared go in first.

* * *

The night before Jared heads back to California, Jensen takes him out to dinner. Jensen won't tell him where, keeps repeating "it's a surprise," over and over, and refuses to budge. They've already done the Eiffel Tower restaurant so Jared can't figure out what would be a big enough deal that Jensen would want to create anticipation. They spend the day walking around the city, doing the whole 'one last time at' thing, so they wander through the side streets of the Latin Quarter, wave at the gargoyles on Notre Dame, see the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the Arc de Triumph. It's a good day, quiet and relaxed, with no obligations.

Instead of taking the Mercedes, Jensen heads to the sidewalk. Jared follows amiably, curious, but in no great rush. The restaurant is at the end of the street, across from the metro stop and Jared has seen it everyday.

"You've got to be kidding me." Jared laughs in disbelief.

Jensen walks up to the front door and holds it open for Jared like a gentleman. "Couldn't let you leave France before you try the Tex Mex."

Jared has to hold back from cracking up but he wants to bad, wants to laugh his ass off, slap his knees, the whole bit. He rubs his face, laughing into his hand for a minute before composing himself. Jensen presents himself to the maitre'd and they're taken to a table in the back. The menu is in French and Jared's a little afraid to order. Jensen spots Cerveza on the drink menu and orders two of them. Food-wise, he talks their waiter into bringing a little of everything.

"I have to know what French nachos taste like," he tells Jared, smile as wide as it gets.

"Good thing you're heading home soon too, because you're gonna want real Mexican so bad after this," Jared shakes his head.

"I've been craving carne asada for three weeks straight now. I'm kind of over it." Jensen shrugs.

The tacos are all right, the cheese is funny and there are a lot of things off about the spices. The enchiladas are jut not good, but the nachos are the most fucked up things Jared's ever seen in his life.

"Doritos," he says again, astounded.

Jensen pokes the chips with the tip of his fork. "Covered in honest-to-god nacho cheese."

Jared sets his silverware down and shakes his head. "I can't do it. I just can't."

Jensen looks around the restaurant at the different tables. "A lot of them are eating it and they seem to like it."

Jared pushes the plate closer to Jensen. "Nacho cheese covered nacho cheese Doritos." He doesn't really feel the need to defend himself.

"Okay, yeah." Jensen takes the napkin from his lap and sets it on the table. "I can't do it. It's just too gross."

* * *

Jensen puts his hands in his pockets. "I've got to get back by the first of August. Filming for _Let Down_ starts that week at the Universal lot. So I'll call you and let you know when I get in town."

Jared hooks his arm over Jensen's shoulder and slows down to match his gait. "You act like I'm going to actually want to see you when you get to LA."

Jensen snickers. "You're going to miss me so bad it hurts, Padalecki."

"We'll always have Paris." Jared says gravely and with what he has to admit is a bad Bogart impression.

Jensen fishes the keys from his pocket. "You ever even seen _Casablanca_?"

"Shut up," Jared follows him up the stairs, two at a time. "Bogart's cool."

"Cooler than you, that's for sure." Jensen gets the door unlocked and holds it open for Jared.

"Thanks for dinner, asshole." Jared tosses his own set of keys on the front table. He figures he'll leave them where Jensen or Liz can find them.

"You're welcome," Jensen puts his keys down next to Jared's. "I'm glad you took the plane ticket, Jared."

Jared shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Thanks for letting me hide out."

"You weren't hiding out." Jensen turns the hall lights on. "You were taking time off. Which isn't a crime."

"Either way," Jared shrugs. "I probably would have spent the summer playing video games and being lonely, if you hadn't invited me."

"You would have been playing video games with Chad and _wishing_ you were lonely." Jensen is halfway to his room when he turns around, serious expression on his face. "But you know, when I get back in town, there's an open door policy. If you can't stand being alone you can _always_ come over."

Jared almost makes the easy joke. He almost says, "What and interrupt you and Dakota?" but Jensen's making a genuine offer and he deserves the same kind of response. "You're a good friend."

Jensen shrugs, smile in his eyes. "It's a two-way street."

Jensen drives him to the airport, helps him get his bags out of the trunk and suffers nobly through a hug that Jared has a hard time ending. When he pulls back, he holds Jensen at arm's length and says, "Thank you," because he doesn't know what else to say.

Jensen hugs him again, short and sweet and then steps back out of reach. He closes his trunk and taps it once, taking a minute before looking up with a sly grin. He gestures to the uniformed man coming towards them for luggage.

"Guess I'll see you when you get back to LA."

"Have a safe flight, Jay." With a rueful smile, like he's been trying to resist, he tips an imaginary hat in Jared's direction before he gets back into the car. "Here's looking at you kid."


	3. Chapter 3

The grass in the backyard is low and even, and the hedge has been trimmed back to the point where it isn't poised to attack the rest of the yard. Jared puts his bags in his room and then goes out into the backyard. He kicks off his flip flops and stands in the grass, damp from early morning sprinklers. He closes his eyes and thinks _home_ as hard as he can. Sooner or later, he's sure, it will start to feel like it. He pulls his phone from his pocket, hits two on the speed dial and waits while it rings.

"How long are we supposed to wait until we start talking again?" He asks before there's even a hello.

"Probably after the divorce is finalized," Sandy says in the voice that means she won't hold either of them to that. "But if you don't tell, I won't either."

"Deal." Jared rests his head against the glass, warm with the sunlight. "Thank you for calling the gardener."

In the background, he can hear the familiar sounds of her in the kitchen, the clank of metal against the ceramic. He'd bet that she's baking. He closes his eyes and thinks of the hundred times they've done this. In the past, though, they've been separated by countries or continents not a city. She's a thirty minute drive west that he can't make.

"Don't even worry about it." She brushes it off. "How was Paris?"

"Good," he says, meaning it. "Got my head clear, you know?"

She hums softly and he can tell she's smiling. "Yeah, I imagine Paris would be a pretty good distraction."

He wanders over to his porch and sits down on the steps. He missed her little noises and her smiles. Listening to her familiar, sweet voice he thinks, _This will work_. "How about you? Had any good distractions this summer?"

She laughs, easy and light, and tells him all about decorating her new place, the role she's up for, and the puppy she saw at the pet shop.

He looks down at his feet, toes half hidden in the short grass. "A new dog, huh?"

She pauses for a moment and then says, softly, "It's time, don't you think?"

He looks out across his spotless backyard and nods. "Yeah. Well past time."

* * *

Jensen leaves him a message halfway through the week, letting Jared know that he's stopped over in New York for a meeting and won't be in LA until the week Jared goes back to filming. Jared emails him, ordering that a meal be had sometime that weekend. Jensen emails him back right away, one little line of, "Miss me already?"

And maybe it's weird, after spending three months in each others' pockets, but Jared really does.

* * *

The read-through of the first episode of the season goes over pretty well. There are a few lines Jared doesn't like, but it's solid and tense the whole way through. Allison calls him the first day on set and asks him about Ben's tan, and Michelle's new boyfriend. He makes her laugh and asks how she's doing. It's not the same as having her on set, of course, but it's better than nothing. He decides then to call her at least once every other day, to keep her in the loop, and to keep himself from missing her sense of humor too badly.

Jared gets asked not to shave and instead spends a few extra minutes in makeup everyday while the makeup girls get his stubble just right. The whole episode takes place over one day, and his costume and facial hair is constantly altered, and the end of the episode has him looking more run down and dirty than he can remember looking in the whole time he's been on this show.

The rough cuts of the episode are amazing, and Jared's pleased with how much of a disaster he looks like through the whole thing. He has a whole season of Jake's steady decline to look forward to, and he is determined to sell it.

Bob says, "You know, people are going to read a lot into this."

Jared shrugs, because he'd have to be pretty clueless not to see it, but that doesn't mean he cares. "It's my job to worry about my acting. I've got a publicist for the rest of it."

* * *

Chad leaves him ten messages in as many days. The first message is simply, "I know you're back in town. Call me, man." The next nine are roughly the same with an increasing number of curses thrown in for good measure. Jared gives in and calls him before the messages become all curses and nothing else.

When Chad answers he doesn't say hi. He says, "The ex broke my watch. Pick me up so we can pick out a new one."

Jared knows better than to ask which ex, just sighs his best long-suffering sigh and says, "I'll be there in a half hour." It's more like an hour, all things told, because it's impossible to get anywhere in LA in that kind of time anymore. Chad is actually waiting for him on the front stoop. He hops and jogs to the car, looking pleased as hell to see Jared.

"Forget where I live?" Chad slams the door shut and, after a pointed look, buckles himself in.

"Well, you keep losing the house in the divorce, so..." The joke feels clumsy but Chad rises to the bait like a good friend.

"One time. And it was an ugly house anyway. Fucking rocks around the pool like sixties Vegas or some shit."

_More like sixties Hollywood_, Jared doesn't say. The house had been cool but it had been so completely not Chad that it wasn't really worth ragging on him about it. "Whatever, man," he says, turning right once they get out of the gate.

"Head to Rodeo." Chad points in what he must think is the general direction of Rodeo Drive but is not at all. "We need to be seen, man. People think you've offed yourself."

Jared purses his lips and eases over into the next lane. "Great."

Chad looks over at him, bumps the arm that's handling the gear shift. "You're not, right?"

"Right." Jared nods. He is not going to off himself and he's not going to hide forever and he _is_ apparently shopping on Rodeo Drive like someone in desperate need of attention.

"Divorce is hard, man," Chad says with gravity.

_Harder_, Jared thinks, _When she should've been the right girl._

Chad goes into every jewelry store he sees. Jared has to fight flashbacks to the couple of times he's had to tag along on the hunt for the perfect engagement ring, and he's grateful he doesn't have to feign interest in diamond clarity again. He'd taken Jensen when he'd gone shopping for Sandy's ring, and Jensen had been a damn good sport about it. He'd talked with the jewelers, asked specific questions that Jared hadn't thought of, had gotten really into it and seemed excited about it. Even now, Jared's pretty sure Jensen hadn't been faking it.

The third store in, Chad finally gets his mind off the size of wrist bands. "Divorce is a bitch," he says flat out.

"You'd know," Jared says, not unkindly.

"Sad, but true," Chad shrugs. He shakes his head and moves on to the next case. "You get jacked out of your money, your car, some of your friends..."

"Sandy's not jacking me out of anything." He really doesn't want Chad getting the wrong idea.

Chad smacks him on the back. "But, the crappiest thing about getting a divorce? Is you have to rewrite your Oscar speech."

"You've never been nominated for an Oscar." Jared can't stop himself from giving Chad a look. In point of fact, only one of Jared's close friends has been nominated for an Oscar.

"That one," Chad points to the watch. The saleswoman bends down to unlock the case and Chad turns to give Jared his full attention. "Every actor has an Oscar speech in his back pocket."

Jared sure as hell doesn't. He's never been big on tempting fate, and having a thank you list written out feels like a damn good way to ensure never needing one.

"Houses come and go," Chad says like one who knows. "But the people on that list. They're forever. You gotta be fucking sure."

* * *

Jared wouldn't normally take Jensen up on his standing offer of 'come over whenever' so soon but going straight back to his place after an afternoon spent trailing Chad feels like going cold turkey. Far too quiet in his own head. Without thinking, he makes a left when he should have made a right, and once he realizes it he just keeps going. Jensen probably has better food anyway.

He parks his car in the driveway, next to Jensen's BMW, and gets out. He doesn't have his keys, and he doesn't have any offerings like food or beer. But it's _Jensen_, so he jogs up the walkway, knocks out "shave and a haircut," and waits.

Jensen opens the door after a few minutes, squinting in the faint light. His hair is sticking up every which way, and it looks like he hasn't shaved since Jared last saw him. He's wearing a pair of boxers, his glasses, and nothing else. "Jared?"

"Hey." Jared stuffed his hands in his pockets, embarrassed. He really didn't figure on Jensen being asleep in the afternoon.

Jensen smiles, a lazy smirk that reminds Jared sharply of Dean Winchester. He opens the door wider. "You coming in?"

"Yeah." Jared steps off the porch and into the front entryway.

Jensen closes the door after Jared, turns the three locks, and hits the hall light. "Sorry, I'm still jet lagged."

Jared nearly points out that it's already been a few days. But Chad's words are still running a loop through his brain, so he cuts to the chase instead. "Do you keep an Oscar speech in your back pocket?"

Jensen blinks and looks down at his four-leaf clovers boxers that are notably without pockets. He pats the sides anyway and looks back at Jared. "No. I don't."

Jared rolls his shoulders and nods, "Okay, cool."

Jensen scratches the back of his head, sleepy and amused. Jared looks at the muscles in his stomach, more pronounced than they were a few weeks ago. He rubs his face and tries to remember what it was he wanted to say.

Jensen barks out a laugh, claps Jared on the back, and urges him further into the house. "You hung out with Chad, didn't you?"

Jared lets himself be pushed. "How do you always know that? Does he leave a mark or something? Do I have a note taped to my back?"

"Nah," Jensen shakes his head, pushing Jared towards the kitchen. "You just always leave his place looking like you got hit by a semi."

Jared shakes his head, grinning, and sits down on one of the stools around the island. "I'm pretty sure I don't. I think we both know what that looks like."

Jensen rolls his eyes. "You want scrambled eggs or something?"

"I'm not a growing boy anymore," Jared tells him. Not that he was ever really a growing boy in the time they'd known each other. "I don't always need to be fed."

Jensen opens the fridge, digs out the eggs and milk. He looks around the kitchen until he spots the loaf of bread. He smiles big and wide in Jared's direction, his eyes still puffy with sleep. "You'll shut up and eat your French toast."

Jared leans forward, arms on the cool marble, watching as Jensen washes his hands. "Just because I don't need food, doesn't mean I ever say no to it."

Jensen gets out a bowl, cracks four eggs into it. "You gonna tell me about the Oscar speech? Or what Chad said to get you all strung up?"

"He was just..." Jared considers for a moment. "He was just being Chad."

Jensen snorts and pours milk and a few shakes of cinnamon into the bowl. "That explains it."

Jared looks for something to throw at Jensen but comes up empty. "No, he was just trying to help, I mean--" Jared shakes his head and starts over. "He had this stupid theory and I couldn't stop thinking about it."

Jensen waves his hand, a 'go on' gesture, as he reaches for a frying pan from the rack above the island.

"He said every good actor keeps an Oscar speech in his back pocket. So like, the worst thing about getting a divorce is that you have to take it out and rewrite it. I think it was a metaphor for having to adjust your priorities in life or something."

Jensen sets the pan down on the stove and pulls bread out from the bag. "This is Chad we're talking about, so I don't think it was a metaphor. He probably actually has a speech in his wallet or something."

"That's not fair," Jared says.

Jensen drops a piece of bread into the bowl, pushing it under the liquid with his fingers. "It totally is. I like the guy but he's just that kind of douche."

"He's a good friend," Jared feels the need to point out.

Jensen drops a soaked-through piece of bread onto the pan and puts another in the bowl. "Why're you so worked up about this?"

Jared taps out 'Ode to Joy' on the marble top of the island. "I don't have a speech, you know?"

Jensen turns around, eyes narrowed and mouth a straight line. He takes the three steps to the island and pokes Jared in the forehead with his right index finger, still wet and disgusting from egg and milk. "The Oscar speech is in your head, Jay. You know who you're supposed to thank."

"Hey!" Jared jerks his head back, wiping the gunk off with the back of his hand.

"Besides, you can't take Chad's advice about anything. He's still chasing the barely-legals around the Paramount lot."

It's a fair point, but Jared refuses to concede. "He's been divorced three times, so he probably knows what he's talking about."

Jensen grabs the spatula and flips the slice of bread over in the pan. "Divorce isn't something you're supposed to be good at. And fuck, Jared, you have already got to be better at it than Mayhem. Sandy isn't talking trash about you to everyone she knows."

"Okay, true." Jared wipes at his forehead.

Jensen spatulas out the first piece of toast onto a plate and reaches for the one in the bowl.

Jared makes a face. "You touched my forehead with that finger."

Jensen rolls his eyes, and turns to wash his hands. "Grab yourself a plate."

* * *

Jared takes the plates to the sink, rinses them off while Jensen gives him the rundown of the movie he's starting next. Jared's heard it before, but Jen's tired enough that he probably doesn't remember. Jared moves all the dishes from the sink to the dishwasher and tries to decide if he can get Jensen to stay up a while longer. Jared's not ready to go home yet. He closes the dishwasher and turns around, question on the tip of his tongue.

"Stay the night, Padalecki." Jensen stands up, shoves him towards the stairs.

Jared smiles so hard it hurts.

There are four guest bathrooms, which is a ridiculous number because Jensen never has a lot of guests outside of the holidays. Jared holds out the pale blue toothbrush. "For me? You shouldn't have."

Jensen squints, slipping his glasses back on. "I think my maid might have left it. She does that. She thinks I get around a lot more than I actually do."

"Humbling," Jared observes.

Jensen makes a face and shoves Jared back into the bathroom. "It's a personal choice. I can have anyone I want, Jay. I just have taste, unlike your other friends."

"Chad has taste. Not good or appropriate taste, but it's there."

Jensen snorts, but doesn't deny it.

* * *

In the morning Jared drags Jensen out for a run around the neighborhood, laughing at every curse Jensen throws at him.

He slows down to a walk and waits for Jensen to catch up.

Jensen shoots him a dirty look. "Your legs are longer," he points out, before Jared can mock him for falling behind.

Jared loops a sweaty arm around Jensen's neck, grinning as Jensen tries to shrug him off. "You know, the older you get, the less you need sleep."

"I haven't had any coffee, so you can just fuck off," Jensen grumbles.

There's a Coffee Bean around the corner from Jensen's neighborhood, so instead of heading back up the hill to Jen's house, Jared walks them through the gate and down the street.

They get their drinks and sit at a small table on the shop patio. It still takes a little while for Jensen to perk up, but Jared has fun telling him the good lines from the first episode. Jensen mocks him for the facial hair--he's never been a big fan of it on Jared--and Jared throws the mocking right back, because Jensen's beard is a whole different color from the hair on his head. There's a lot of material there for Jared to work with. A small crowd begins to gather near their table, people with cameras or slips of paper for autographs. They sign a few, and Jared happily takes the pictures even when Jensen points out that they both look like shit. Jensen throws his empty cup away and manhandles Jared out the door, muttering about phones and paparazzi, but mostly because it's still well before nine a.m. and he's a grumpy bitch when he's tired.

Jared has some clothes stashed at Jensen's house so he takes a shower when told, and lazes around Jensen's house in an old pair of jeans and t-shirt that Jensen tells him is an eyesore. They play video games and Jensen lets Jared read the script on his coffee table.

Jared has an early call and lines he hasn't memorized--or even read--yet, which is the only reason he goes home before nightfall. Jensen tells him not to listen to a word Chad says, and Jared laughs because it's the same thing Jensen's been saying for years now, and it's still probably good advice.

Jared's picture is all over the rags that week, and his 'exploits' written up in the gossip columns. As far as gossip goes, there's not much beyond a rehash of what's probably been said all summer long about the divorce. The pictures with Jensen get the most coverage, different angles across different magazines, all with similar headlines. 'Jensen helps Jared through his heartbreak!' coupled with old _Supernatural_ era shots and old quotes about their friendship. Jared isn't surprised at all.

The fact is, Jensen's a bigger star than Jared. They're both high enough up the ladder that it doesn't come up often, and doesn't make much of a difference. But divorce is blood in the water, and going out in public with Chad is like declaring open hunting season. So everywhere Jared goes there are paparazzi, following him into the grocery store, crowding his car, shadowing his every step. The same way they've been following Jensen for years.

"I get the no comment thing," Jared admits, even though he knows he'll never be able to keep his mouth shut about being happy.

Jensen follows Jared back into the house, wiping the sweat from his face. "That bad?" He kicks his shoes off in the entryway.

"It's a good thing my new place is in a gated community or I'd be hiding out behind your security walls, let me tell you." Jared opens his fridge to see if there's anything he can cobble together for lunch.

Jensen smiles behind his water bottle; Jared can see the lines at the edges of his eyes. "Well, you know the security code if you need it."

* * *

Jensen starts filming in early October on the Universal lot. His beard is mostly grown out, which is funny to see for a part, and not just because he's spending a vacation being full-on lazy. He calls Jared a lot, four times a week or more, but he's on night shoots that bleed into weekends for the first few weeks, so mostly it's an flurry of voicemails and no face to face time at all.

Jared's season premiere airs on the second week of October and Jared has an excited voicemail from Jen for every commercial break. His parents only call once, but Jared actually gets to the phone that time and gets to hear their excitement live. He figures they're all pretty good indicators, so he's not all that surprised when the public response is through the roof. The show's gone to deep emotional places before, but his character has always been the stable force behind everything. The general consensus seems to be that stripping Jake bare and making the others step up to the plate has elevated the show to another level.

"Keep this up," Bob says, "and we might not be the _second_ highest rated program anymore."

Jared's character gets a new partner, a case he fails to solve, and a request to move out of the house from his wife. It's the most draining the show's ever been on him and Jared spends the time he's not on set either sleeping or exercising. There's a little character bleed; there always is when the situations are this intense and the character's that important to him. Mostly though, what Jared comes away from set feeling is relief. He's not handling his divorce half as bad as his character is and it's nice to feel good about his trajectory.

He sends Jensen several messages a day, little anecdotes from set or random thoughts he wants to share. A summer together and Jared feels as in tune with him as when they worked fourteen-hour days together. It feels natural to keep Jensen in the loop for everything, like it's his life too.

Jared's parents had given him space over the summer while he got his shit together, but now that he's back home and working, they call at least twice a week. They never have time for long conversations, Jared's just too busy and the time difference is enough to make it rough, and he hates it, but he's used to it. His mama likes to keep him up to date on Megan and Jeff, like she thinks Jared never talks to them, either. His dad likes to talk sports and the latest thing he saw on the news. They both talk about his show, going over the little details they loved, and pretty much every scene he's in. Jared likes to sit and listen to them, their slow warm voices that make him breathe easy.

He talks to Megan and Jeff each about twice a month. Megan slips once, asks about Sandy without thinking, and then spends a minute cursing and apologizing. He tells her not to be sorry, that it's okay, that they're still friends, and to prove it he tells her about Sandy's new dog. Jeff asks how he's doing and if he's seeing anyone, but other than that he leaves it all alone. Jared's pretty grateful to his older brother for that.

* * *

Chad text messages him at five o'clock on a Friday night. "You need to go out and rebound, man."

Jared's a little offended because he'd given Chad a pretty detailed account of Paris. He sends back, "I did."

Chad's reply is immediate. "Once doesn't count."

Chad can't see him but Jared still rolls his eyes. "Okay, seriously."

His phone rings a few seconds later and Jared turns it on with a heavy sigh. He doesn't bother to say hello because Chad's already off and running.

"Seriously. We're going out. You're going to get wasted and go home with a girl."

Jared says, "Chad--"

"Or a guy," Chad cuts him off. "I don't care, as long as it's not me or Ackles. You're gonna get laid and you're gonna feel better in the morning."

Jared knows a lost cause when he sees one.

Going out with Chad is always a bad idea. Especially when he doesn't have any back up. They get to the first bar- Jared's sure it's going to be only the first of many - and Chad says, "Get my man, here, a drink!"

After that, really, it's drink after drink, a hired car shuttling them and an ever increasing group of girls from hot spot to hot spot until Chad throws up in the ladies restroom and Jared can't remember how to get to his own house.

* * *

He wakes up because his feet are hanging off the edge of the bed and freezing. He has boxers on, but no shirt, and the blankets aren't any longer than the bed. It's not his bed. But at least it's a familiar bed.

It takes another half hour before he can bear to move his head, and sitting up is about all he can manage at first. He drinks the full glass of water on the nightstand, but his throat still aches with dehydration, so he takes a few minutes to work up the energy to stand.

Jensen is lounging on the couch, watching some documentary with the History logo in the corner. He's dressed, jeans and button up shirt, which means it's pretty late in the morning, if it's morning at all.

He looks up when Jared gets to the bottom of the stairs.

Jared's a little afraid to ask because he doesn't remember much of anything beyond the first shot. "How did I get here?"

Jensen smiles like he's been _waiting_ for it. "You couldn't remember your address."

That's pretty embarrassing, actually. "Wow."

"It was kind of funny." Jensen shrugs.

Jared rubs his face and collapses into the recliner. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't."

Jensen eyes him. "You didn't throw up, and you didn't trash talk like Murray does. You were just kind of...." He trails off with a wave of his hands.

Jared knows exactly what that means. "Gropey."

"Which is pretty normal for you," Jensen points out. He mutes the television.

Jared covers his face with his hands.

Jensen kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. "I think I have cereal. Or we could always go out to eat."

Jared considers the question for less than a second. He swallows tightly. "I hate food."

Jen stares at him and doesn't say anything at first. "That has got to be one massive hangover."

Jared pushes himself slowly out of the chair and stumbles into the kitchen for more water. "I'm going to go back to bed."

Jensen snickers quietly, but lets Jared go back up the stairs without another word.

When Jared comes downstairs three hours later, Jensen is on the phone in his office, quietly going over contract details. Jared gets more water and finds the saltines from the pantry cupboard. He sits on the couch, taking small bites, and staring at the blank screen of the television.

Jensen comes out from the office and drops down on the couch next to Jared. He slings his arm across the back of the couch, the tip of his thumb hitting Jared's shoulder. "So what have we learned from this experience?"

Jared bites off another piece of cracker. "Chad is an asshole."

Jensen taps his shoulder soothingly. "What's something new we learned from this experience?"

Jared considers this. "I hate tequila."

Jensen doesn't say anything in response and Jared admits defeat. "I need to memorize my new address."

Jensen lets out a surprised laugh. "Yeah, okay, that too."

Jared sets the crackers down on the table. "I'm not good at rebounding."

Jensen nods encouragingly, smiling.

Jared sighs and slumps back against the couch. "And alcohol doesn't solve anything."

"This is an after school special, I swear."

* * *

Jensen drives him back to his place only after Jared's eaten honest-to-god food and not thrown it back up. "I don't trust you to take care of yourself," he was happy to say. Jared figures Jensen's been in caretaker mode since that party back in April, and doesn't expect that'll change for a while longer.

Jensen walks Jared inside and takes a self guided tour of the place while Jared changes into clean clothes and splashes water on his face. He comes back downstairs and finds Jensen out on the back patio, looking out at the yard.

"Big yard," Jensen doesn't turn around.

Jared sits down on the steps, kicking his feet out onto the grass. "I bought it for the security gate and the backyard." There are hedges high along the wall to keep photographers from getting a decent shot of the house, but that isn't what he means. The yard is incredibly large, a pool off the right with all the rock work, and waterfall crap that Jared's never cared too much about. There are plants everywhere and soft grass to the back of the oversized lot. It's not too busy, just a large open space all his own.

Jensen sits down next to him, right hand braced on the porch behind him. "The gate, the yard, and the vaulted ceilings," he guesses.

"Tall ceilings never hurt," Jared agrees. The master bathroom is out of a catalog and the layout is easy to navigate, the rooms all spacious with large windows. Jared likes natural light, likes looking out and seeing the world around him.

"It's nice," Jensen tells him. He leans forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees, legs spreading an inch so his calf brushes against Jared's leg.

Jared looks away from Jensen, nodding in agreement. "Nice enough to get used to," he says.

Jensen leaves a copy of the Alamo script on his coffee table. All of Bowie's lines are highlighted. Jared knows the way it goes, expects half the script will be completely different before filming starts, but what he reads is pretty fucking amazing. Bowie's got that Han Solo-Dean Winchester vibe to him, and Jared's itching for the part. He's played straight-laced heroes for the last few years and something different feels like exactly what he needs.

"Are you going to wear a coon-skinned cap?" He calls Jensen just to ask him that.

Jensen snorts. "Sign up and I'll think about it."

Jared's agent negotiates the contract and Jared isn't even asked for a screen test.

* * *

It's going to be a long week filming, and there's pretty much no chance Jared's going to get off set before midnight, so he emails Jensen suggesting breakfast on Saturday. Jensen leaves him a voicemail literally spelling the word brunch, and telling Jared he's crazy if he thinks Jensen's getting out of bed before ten on a Saturday. Jared makes 11:00am reservations for Saturday at this cafe that's off the beaten path and serves breakfast all day long.

"Your character's stupid."

Jensen doesn't look up from the newspaper. Jared kicks his shin lightly. "Hey, Beard-Guy."

Jensen lowers the paper and looks at him with bleary, tired eyes. "Yes?"

"Your character's stupid." Jared pushes the script across the table, barely missing the salt shaker. "Seriously, he's being a complete idiot this whole movie. He loves the girl, but he won't tell her, and he gets everything wrong. And if he'd just said something in the beginning, they could have lived happily ever after, no fuss."

Jensen folds the paper up and puts it over on the seat of the empty chair to his right. "Yeah, I know."

Jared takes another bite of his waffles and waves his hand because Jensen doesn't look like he's going to continue without encouragement.

Jensen picks up his fork and snags a piece of Jared's waffles. "See, the thing is, people? Pretty stupid a lot of the time. And they always make the wrong choices and don't listen and just fuck everything up."

"You are one pessimistic fuck, man." Jared downs half his water.

Jensen rolls his eyes. "I like the character. I like that he's a fuck-up. He's a real guy. How often do we get to play real guys?"

"You know you were on a soap opera once." Jared signals the waitress for a refill.

Jensen picks up his last piece of bacon with his fingers and bites off a third of it. "Don't even, Mr. I Did a Horror Movie with Paris Hilton."

"Death by wax could totally happen."

The waitress tops off both of their coffees. "Anything else I can do for you gentleman?"

"We're good, thank you." Jensen smiles at her.

"Good coffee," Jared offers, his smile wider than Jensen's. The waitress smiles back, a pretty young thing that Chad would have tried to ask out already. She leaves them and Jensen snakes another piece of waffle.

"I like that he's a fuck-up," he says again.

Jared nods, looking out the window to the busy street outside. "I do too. He's still totally fucked though."

"Didn't you hear?" Jensen kicks his shin, a long-delayed retaliation. "Happy endings are so last year."

Jared cups his hot mug, feels it through his fingertips and palms, warming him. "New year's coming though."

He hears Jensen take a breath, but he doesn't say anything. His fingers brush Jared's across the oak table. He takes his own water glass, drains it, and then looks at Jared. "Absolutely."

Jared checks his watch and he still has ten minutes before he should head out. "They sent me the revised Alamo script yesterday. I haven't had a chance to look at it yet."

Jensen puts his fork down amid the ruins of his pancake, teeth to the plate. "I don't want to spoil the ending for you or anything, but they don't win."

"We could screw the Alamo, and do that remake of Butch and Sundance that Dreamworks's been bouncing around."

"And be 'those guys who aren't Redford and Newman'? Thanks but no thanks."

"You upset you're not as cute as Redford?" Jared bats his eyelashes.

Jensen drains his cup. "Fuck you, Newman was the man and you know it."

* * *

Jared goes home to Texas for Thanksgiving. It's chaos, of course, because anytime you get three generations in one house, it's always chaos. Jared spends most of his time running out in the backyard with his nieces and nephews, throwing footballs and playing tag.

His mother makes him chop the vegetables, like always, and tells him that he looks good.

"I am good," he tells her. He means it and he can see from the way she relaxes that she can see that.

It's a good break from filming, short as it is, and he's energized to get right back into the swing of things.

* * *

Jensen went home to his parents for Thanksgiving too, so they trade stories about the Texas weather and the fun of being an uncle.

They have plans to go to a party of Katie's but when Jared comes to pick Jensen up, he's not there. Jensen's car pulls into the drive just as Jared has his phone out to call. Jensen apologizes the minute he's out of the driver's seat.

"Liz has a cold so I told her to take the week off and I kind of..." He shrugs as he walks to his trunk.

"Forgot everything?" Jared guesses. He jogs over to help with the groceries Jensen's pulling from his trunk. Between the two of them it only takes one trip but Jensen almost drops the keys when he tries to unlock the door.

He gets the keys into the lock and gets the door open. "I didn't have anything to eat. At all. Not even that jar of pickles in the back."

"You've had that jar for a few years. Tell me you didn't eat them." Jared kicks the door shut before following Jensen to the kitchen.

"Someone threw them out, thank god, or I might have." Jensen sets his bags on the counter.

"So you gave in and went to the grocery store." Jared puts his bags down next to Jensen's and gets to work unpacking them.

"I wouldn't have gone if I remembered about the party. They'll feed us there," Jensen says.

Jared shakes his head and starts putting the groceries away. "Your week must have been pretty crap, with Liz being sick and all."

"I'm not completely codependent," Jensen objects. He tosses a box of cereal at Jared's head that Jared catches easily. He grabs the frozen goods from the counter and starts replenishing the freezer. "So," he says, "Sandy invited me to lunch."

"You gonna go?" It's a stupid question because Jensen wouldn't have said anything if he wasn't planning on it.

Jensen puts the milk and the apple juice on the side shelf of the fridge. "I want to."

Jared starts unloading the small bag of canned goods into the farthest cupboard. "You're gonna talk about me the whole time, aren't you?"

Jensen grabs the bag of produce and puts the fruit in the top drawer and the vegetables in the bottom. "She's going to ask how you're really doing. And I'm going to tell her the truth, if you let me."

Jared stares at the graham crackers in his hand, the familiar gold writing embossed on the box. "What're you going to say?"

Jensen's next to him the next moment, a hand clapping him on the shoulder and squeezing tightly. "That you're okay." He says in firmly, like he can make it so. "You _are_ okay."

Jared slides the crackers in next to a half empty bag of rice cakes. "Yeah."

Jensen takes the carrots from the counter near Jared. "You still want to go to this thing?"

Jared pushes the six pack towards him. "Yeah, I do."

They go to Katie's party, which turns out to be some charity thing, though Jared can't remember getting that memo. He's pretty quiet and Jensen picks up the slack, smiling his best fake smile and telling harmless anecdotes from any number of sets.

When Jared drops him off that night, Jensen pauses one foot out the door and says, "She's my friend too, but if you don't want me to go…"

"I want you to go." Jared squeezes the gear shift.

Jensen sighs and gets all the way out the car. "Call me, okay?"

"Promise." Jared waits until Jen's in the house before driving away.

* * *

Jared gets a call on the first of December that Allison's little girl was born healthy and all that. He sends flowers to the house, balloons to the hospital, and remembers to donate to the charity she'd picked out in lieu of a baby shower.

The rest of December passes in a flurry of filming and shopping. He does most of his shopping online, but sometimes he needs to actually _see_ what he's buying. He makes Chad go to some antique shops with him--he has a lot of fun making antiquing jokes--and finds a camera from the 1920s that he's pretty sure Jen will drool over.

"You're spending a lot of time on Ackles's gift," Chad mutters.

Jared rolls his eyes. "You'll get something nice too, jerk."

He gets Chad a new watch because the one he's wearing really won't have a long shelf life, the way things are going. His family and coworkers are easy enough that he'd finished them all by November. Sandy, though, is a problem.

He goes out a few times a week but everything he finds is either too meaningless or too romantic. He's persistent, but when he's spent five hours of his Saturday at the mall and isn't any closer to a solution, he admits defeat and drives over to Jensen's.

* * *

"You know I don't do this with anyone else," Jared says after Jensen's let him in and gone back to the kitchen where he'd been in the process of making coffee.

Jensen looks up from the coffee pot. He looks around the kitchen and then squarely at Jared. "Okay...."

"Not have coffee," Jared shakes his head and waves his hand, feeling like an idiot but not enough to take it back. "Just show up, you know, not calling first. Sometimes I don't even knock."

Jensen smiles, rolls his eyes, and hands over a full mug. "It's why you have a key and a security code." He pours another mug out, sets it on the counter near Jared.

"Yeah, but even with girlfriends..." Sandy had been different, of course, but there had been so many years of moving that it hadn't been a settled thing. With Jensen it had been pretty immediate, crashing in hotel rooms and keys offered the minute Jared got the deed. He's trying to say something here but the words aren't coming out, not the way he wants them to.

Jensen grabs milk from the fridge, uncaps it and pours some into the mug Jared's holding. He doesn't look at Jared but he nods and he's smiling. He pours milk into his own and says, "Yeah." He gets the box of sugar from the cabinet, sets it down for Jared to grab. "Me either."

Jared puts sugar in his coffee and grabs the bag of muffins from on top of the toaster oven. "You have a bread box," he points out.

Jensen takes the blueberry muffin from the bag. "Do muffins go in the breadbox?"

"I think anything in the bread family goes into the breadbox." Jared bites in the chocolate chip muffin and washes it down with coffee that's actually really good. "New coffee?"

"Got it before I left Paris. I've been hoarding it." Jensen licks muffin crumbs off his thumb. "You like?"

Jared hums agreement as he sips.

"I'm going back for two days in January--the promo tour for _Ander's Wake_\--I'll pick up more then."

"Shit, you've got a promo tour?" Jared knew, but he'd lost track of time.

"Yeah, and then pick-ups, so I won't be back until March." Jensen has crumbs littered all through his beard and Jared's not sure if he should laugh or offer up the napkins nearby.

"It premieres in LA the first week of January. The third I think? You going to be in town?"

Jared hands him the napkin, grinning. "Can't get a date?"

Jensen rolls his eyes and wipes ineffectually at the beard. "You're mocking me so now you don't get a choice."

"You're not that unattractive for a guy your age," Jared pats his shoulder gently. "I'm sure you wouldn't have to pay for an escort."

Jensen wipes his crumb-covered hand on Jared's shirt. "You came here for help, right?"

Jared brushes at the crumbs, frowning. "Can't figure out what to get Sandy for Christmas. There's not like a guidebook on gifts for the ex you're still friends with."

Jensen takes a sip of his coffee and moves away from counter, brows furrowed thoughtfully. They go over the list of options, slim as it is, with Jensen nixing every single one. What they come up with after a solid hour of debate is a spa package.

Jensen says, "It's not too personal and it's not something that'll sit on her mantle and remind her it was her first present from you after the divorce."

Jared doesn't like it, but buys it anyway, because he just can't think of anything else.

Sandy sends him a thank you card, follows it up with game tickets, a basket of homemade cookies, and a phone call.

"I miss you," he says, just before she hangs up.

"I miss you too, Jared." She sighs, her voice soft and thready. "Let's have lunch when you get back, okay? I think we should start working on this friends thing."

"We are friends," he says. He takes a bite of one of the cookies and promises to call when he gets back to LA.

* * *

He exchanges gifts with Jensen the day before he leaves for Texas. Jensen grills steak out in his backyard because the weather is fantastic and Jared brings the wine. Jensen's practically giddy over his camera and the film Jared paid even more for. Jensen got Jared an old framed, theatre poster of John Wayne's Alamo and a plain silver ring for his thumb. Jared knows he's been fidgeting the last few months, kept trying to spin a ring that wasn't on his left hand anymore so he understands and appreciates the gesture there.

* * *

He takes a red eye to Texas so he can stop at the work holiday party before catching his flight. His brother picks him up from the airport in his new pickup and Jared has just enough energy to ask him all about it on the drive back to their parents' place. He spends the morning asleep in his old bed, but by midday he's up and about, getting in everyone's way and making everyone laugh.

He goes shopping with his dad, because the man has never gotten the hang of early shopping, and plays videogames with his nephews and nieces. He's not as good as he used to be and he laughs when they rag on him about it.

Jared loves Christmas, loves being with his family, and taking the time away from his normal life. But it's weird, not being here with Sandy, and setting the table is awkward. But it's not bad, all things considered.

His dad says, "You're looking more like yourself JT."

Jared smiles, "A little more everyday."

Christmas is insane like always, kids and too much candy and wrapping paper all over the front room. Jared helps his mama pass out the hot cocoa, spikes Megan's and Jeff's and their spouses' with brandy and makes them promise not to rat him out to their parents.

Megan takes her troop back home the day after, hugging Jared tight before she leaves. "Call more," she orders, same no-nonsense tone she's had all her life.

He says, "Yes ma'am" before he pokes the ticklish spot on her side and laughs as she jerks and wiggles herself out of his grasp.

Jeff and his family stay a few more days before heading home. He and Jared go out and play pool downtown the night before Jeff leaves. Jeff's quiet, only asks Jared once how he's doing and takes Jared's 'getting better' at face value.

* * *

Jared takes a cab to the airport, even though his father offered to give him a ride. He hugs his parents, promises to call, and takes the cookies offered him for the flight. His plane gets delayed so he doesn't fly back into LA until mid-afternoon on the thirty-first. Chad's waiting for him at baggage claim, wearing stupid sunglasses and a stupider shirt. "We're meeting Ackles and Kane at Vibe in three hours. So grab your bags and let's go, bitch."

They stop at Jared's place so he can take a shower and grab some decent clothes. Chad yells at him the whole time, which is funny, and they're only a little late to the club. Jensen and Chris are already in full on party mode. Jensen's glazed-eyed and rosy-cheeked and loudly happy to see Jared again. Jared gets hugged by Jensen, and then a half dozen others and it seems like its old school night. Rosenbaum's across the room, standing with Alli and her husband, and Katie's sitting between Steve and Chris, making a shot glass tower.

By midnight, Jared's completely shitfaced and manages to kiss everyone, Jensen twice.

He doesn't wake up until almost dark on the first and doesn't get out of bed until the second.

"I'm too old for this," he tells Jensen seriously.

Jensen laughs, it echoes over the phone. "You're still coming tomorrow, right?"

Jared has to look at a calendar to figure out what 'tomorrow' is but he says yes anyway.

* * *

"You need to get out more," Jared tells him, as they pool in line for the red carpet. "Find a real date."

"Aw, honey." Jensen slaps his thigh and barely keeps a straight face. "Feeling insecure again?"

"Be careful or I'll grope you in public again," Jared warns.

Jensen rolls his eyes, so Jared's pretty much obliged to do as he promised. They get out of the limo to the thousand bright flashes of cameras. Jensen waves and smiles as he walks ahead. Jared jogs to catch up and when they both stop to pose Jared grabs hold of him, tugging Jensen back against him, shoulder to chest.

He wraps his arms around Jensen, throws his leg up like he used to sometimes, and it is such a mistake. Jensen is angled just right so Jared can feel the solid line of him all the way down, the hard muscle of his arm pressing in to Jared's stomach, the bone of his hip pressing harder even lower. Jensen's knuckles are tucked against the dip of muscle at Jared's hip and all of it feels more real than it ever has.

Jensen is flesh and blood against him. He smells mostly like cologne, one Jared's never used and doesn't know the name of. Underneath it is a musky, familiar scent Jared remembers from long days filming and taking off flannels between scenes. It's a good scent, it makes his body stir, his heart speed up.

It is a perfectly normal outrageous thing that Jared does, groping Jensen like that, but it feels the furthest from familiar that he can name. It is _such a mistake_ but Jensen lets out a startled laugh, like he didn't see it coming, except that he did. Jensen shifts, unbalanced against him, pushing more weight against him, like he'd fall without Jared to keep him up.

Jared's an actor, and it's a good thing too, because he doesn't want to give it up that he's half hard from a few seconds of touch. He mugs for the cameras, pulling out as overblown a smile as he can manage and Jensen laughs himself breathless, body hitching against Jared's the whole time.


	4. Chapter 4

Sandy's wearing a plain silver chain around her neck and a sapphire ring on her left index finger. He doesn't recognize them, or the shirt she's wearing. Her smile though, that's exactly the same.

She waves her hand in front of his face. "You're not listening to me."

"I am," he objects quickly, scrambling to remember anything that's been said since they were seated. He's sure there was a hello in there somewhere, but yeah, that's all he's got. So, guilty as charged.

"Oh." She looks surprised and a little hurt.

_Shit._ Jared shakes his head. "Sandy."

She smiles determinedly. "So who is she?"

Jared is quite suddenly pretty fucking clueless. "She?"

"The girl you're seeing."

Jared tries not to wince. "I'm not seeing anyone."

She leans back in her chair. "Jared."

"Sandy, I'm not." He says it as firmly as he can.

She looks at his face, and he has no idea what she's seeing. She reaches out and puts a hand on his for a second before pulling back. "So who is he?"

He scrubs his face with one hand. "Can we talk about this, you know, later?"

Later is after dessert, when Sandy lets him walk her home. She doesn't take his arm as they walk, just tucks her hands into her coat pockets and walks a little further to the right than she used to.

"I have a guess."

Jared shoots her a look. "How do you already have a guess? I haven't even...."

She smiles at him, wide and knowing. "Does Jensen know you want him? Or is this something you're working up to?"

He can't help but wonder what she and Jensen talked about when they went to lunch. If she's getting all of this from him now or if she'd gotten clues beforehand. He sighs, "You really want to talk about this?"

"That's a no, then." She smirks at him.

He doesn't know what to say because he can't think of a way to say it where it won't come out wrong. He's been without Jensen for all of three weeks and he's already feeling a little desperate. But that doesn't mean he wants to talk about it. With anyone. With Sandy.

It's so new, but it shouldn't be, probably, and he doesn't want her to think.... He just doesn't.

He settles on, "It's not a thing."

She shakes her head, and takes the last few steps to sit on her porch steps. "You should tell him."

He sits down next to her, puts his elbows to his knees and clasps his hands. The ocean is close, just a few yards of sand away and the breeze hits his face, salt water tingling his nose. "Yeah, and what do I say?"

"It's _Jensen_." She puts a hand on his arm, fingers gentle against the bones of his wrist. "You always know what to say to Jensen."

He unclasps his hands and covers her fingers with his palm. "Yeah, well, I've never said this before."

"You'll figure it out." She nudges his shoulder with her own and he rolls with it.

"This… well, it might pass, you know?"

"Doubt it," she sing songs.

He looks at her, and she's smiling that smile he loves, her eyes bare slits above her round cheeks.

He can't help but smile back.

* * *

Jensen sends a package from France, two pounds of coffee and a tassel-topped red balloon filled with flour. Jared stares at until he remembers the people selling the things on the way to the Eiffel Tower. It's still hideous. He puts it on his mantel.

He gets puzzles of famous landmarks, a glass bottle opener from Italy, a kimono, and a pair of wooden clogs. Jensen sends postcards too, classic scenes, and two or three artsy ones. He never writes 'miss you' or 'wish you were here' but it's _Jensen_. Jared's gotten pretty good over the years at reading between his lines.

 

* * *

Jared does the math, counts the hours out on his fingers, and comes up with "It's the middle of the night for you."

Jensen takes a minute to respond. He says, very seriously, "I am so drunk."

"You're no good with saké." Jared, when he really thinks about it, pretty much knows Jensen's reaction to any given alcohol.

"I'm not as trashed as everybody else." Jensen's accent has been mostly gone for years now, but it still rears up when he's thrown back a few too many. It always makes Jared grin.

"Sure you are." Jared kicks his feet up on the table, knows there's a laugh caught in his voice.

"Jerk." Jensen sighs heavily. Jared is pretty sure he's finally getting into bed, the rustling sound of clothes fading away. "You doing okay out there?"

"Got tanked with Chad last week and ended up with pictures all over the internet."

"Saw those," Jensen laughs. "You always look like such a dork when you dance."

Jared leans his head back against the wall. "Especially when my cheeks are that red."

"Sorry I missed it." Jensen's voice is fading. He's falling asleep, Jared can tell.

"Next time, okay?" Jared closes his eyes in sympathy.

"I'm not going dancing with Murray." Jensen always says shit like that, a hundred things he refuses to do anywhere near Chad that Jared will make him do anyway.

"Miss you, man." There's no harm, Jared figures, in being honest.

"Be good," Jensen says, like Jared's ever been a troublemaker.

"Always am." Jared opens his eyes to the bright white ceiling. "Night, Jen."

Jensen doesn't say anything and Jared has to smile because he knows Jen will be pissed when he wakes up with the shape of his phone imprinted on his face. He listens to Jen breathe for a few minutes and wonders if Sandy's right. If it really would be just that easy.

* * *

Chad doesn't bother trying to hide his disappointment. "Okay, you have got to stop thinking about Sandy and start living it up."

Jared holds up his beer for Chad to see. "I'm not thinking about Sandy."

Chad isn't impressed. "Okay, well, you're hung up on _somebody_."

Fuck. Is he really being that obvious? "Chad, come on."

Chad narrows his eyes. "You're not crushing on Ackles, are you?"

 

Jared stiffens reflexively. "Chad."

Chad pushes his beer to the side so he can lean in closer. "Just saying, you're the most touchy-feely fuck I know, and that guy won't even tell people who he's _not_ dating. Not a good match, you know."

Just like that, Jared's pissed. He can't help it. "Not all of us can have your luck in love."

"Hey, I'm looking out for you, Padalecki." Chad sounds genuinely angry, and there's hurt in his expression.

"Sorry." Jared scrubs a hand through his hair. "Sorry."

Chad shakes his head. "Shoulda known you weren't gonna listen to reason. You're in too deep already, aren't you?"

"I'm not dating him, Chad." Maybe if he keeps saying it, someone will listen.

Chad looks him straight in the eye. "Don't have to be fucking to be in deep."

* * *

He brings chocolates and newborn-safe teddy bear, and holds both out when she opens the door.

Allison steps to the side to let him in. "Are you trying to buy my love?"

Jared snorts. "Nice to see you, too."

She takes him to the small, enclosed patio, where the baby monitor is sitting in the middle of the table between the iced tea and the bowl of salad. She pours him a glass of tea, fills his plate and makes him tell her all about filming over lunch. He does his best not to leave any details out. He goes over Ben's outtake worthy fall over an apple box and other bits and pieces that probably no one but Alli would be interested in.

The monitor goes off just as he's finishing, and Allison gets up to get the baby. She comes back with Sarah tucked against her chest, small fists curled in her hair. Allison's got a smile he doesn't recognize, but already pretty much adores.

 

"You look happy."

"I was getting tired of bed rest," she deadpans.

He rolls his eyes.

She settles into the chair, rubbing the baby's back in smooth strokes. "You try having to sit on your ass for four months straight, and see how funny it is."

"Most people would consider that a vacation."

"I had a giant watermelon in my stomach. That's not relaxing." She presses a kiss to the baby's head. "How about you? You definitely seem happier. Anything to report?"

Allison isn't subtle. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Boyfriend?" She gives him her most innocent expression.

"Just happy on my own," he says.

She looks at him carefully, eyes tracking over his face. "I believe it," she tells him.

* * *

Investigation scenes with Ben are nothing like the same scenes with Allison. Where she talks a mile a minute every time the cameras are off, he's pretty content to sit quietly. He's not anti-social, just calm, and a little more introverted. They have that Texas thing in common, which Jared's always seen as good luck, so he does his best to pick up the conversations, and keep them running.

They talk sports, football mostly, and character development. They trade stories about past costars and the first half of the season they'd kept a running list of guesses on names for Allison's baby.

Once Sarah's born, Ben starts listing off possibilities for the serial killer. Christopher Walken is a favorite contender, and they also keep coming back to DeNiro. Jared offers up Jeffrey Dean Morgan with a tongue in cheek, "I know his agent."

Ben outright laughs at that, and countered with Peter Gallagher, who's already guest starred a few times as his step-father.

"You know who you _should_ ask," Ben says out of the blue, while he's getting the scratch on his face touched up.

"Paris Hilton?" Jared shrugs out of his normal jacket and looks around for Mick, who should be bringing the already ripped jacket for trade.

"Not even funny." Ben says. "What about Ackles?"

Jared passes his jacket over to Mick's free hand. "Jensen? You think?"

"You're doing a movie with him, right?" The question's rhetorical because Jared hasn't shut up about Alamo for weeks.

Jared laughs. "It's not like I'm doing _him_ a favor." He lets Mick help him into the battered version of the jacket, shrugging it over his shoulders.

"It's all in how you look at it." Ben picks his way across set to his mark.

Jared follows him, already warming to the idea. "You mean it's all in how I make _him_ look at it."

Ben winks. "Now you're getting it."

 

Jared mentions it to Bob later, who latches onto the idea with almost exaggerated enthusiasm.

"When does he get back into town?" he asks.

"Three weeks," Jared says automatically.

Bob claps his hands together. "Plenty of time."

The serial killer storyline comes back to the forefront, having dropped off after November sweeps. Jake receives a lock of Mel's hair in the mail, and it tips the scales of his frustration into outright obsession. His coworkers are constantly saying how impressed they are, and muttering about Emmy nods, and the whole bit. Jared thinks it's weird, really, that his character is finally coming apart just as Jared feels like he's getting his own two feet back on the ground.

* * *

Jensen shows up while Jared's mid-scene. He's in jeans and a t-shirt, the beard gone and his hair an intentional mess, standing on the sides with Singer. Jared's adrenaline spikes when he sees him, and he nails the next three takes. The director, Todd, grins at him and calls cut and print.

Bob claps Jared on the shoulder as they pass, before moving off to talk to Todd.

"Having a good day?" Jensen asks when Jared reaches him.

"Now I am," Jared says, easy as that. He loops an arm around Jensen's shoulder, guiding him out of the house set and into Midwestern Town. "When did you get back in town?"

 

Jensen lets himself be led, hands in his pockets as they wander into the sunlight. "Last night. Thought I'd surprise you."

Jared squeezes Jen's arm. "Good call. Bob give you the tour?"

Jen shakes his head. "Figure that's your job."

Jared takes him around, shows him off just as much as he shows off the sets. Jared's got a great crew, knows them all by name, because he never wanted to be the guy who didn't. He takes Jensen on the extended tour of the town, pointing out each house and who it belonged to back in the Gilmore days. It's an hour of show-and-tell before Jared's called back to set. He offers Jensen the use of his trailer, but Jen shrugs him off. "I'll sit in your chair, how's that?"

Bob's still on set when they get back. "He gonna do that guest spot?"

Jensen looks at the two of them, suspicion all over his face.

"I don't know," Jared shoves his hands in his pockets and grins. "Maybe."

Jensen sinks down into Jared's chair and rubs his face with one hand. "There's a specific role, isn't there?" he mutters, resigned.

Bob calls a PA over to get a script from lockdown and Jared squeezes Jen's shoulder once before ducking past the lights to his mark. Time to end Jake's marriage.

* * *

Jared starts unbuttoning Jake's shirt before he even gets outside. "So, how'd you find out the shooting schedule?"

"I know people." Jensen doesn't bother to deny it. He shoves the script in the back pocket of his jeans.

Jared shrugs the shirt off, shivering at the cool night air against sweat. "Thanks."

"Figured you'd like the company." Jensen follows him through the winding streets of the lot, back to the trailer near the main sound stage.

Jared takes the steps of his trailer two at a time, getting his t-shirt off the minute he's inside. "Gonna take a quick shower, then I'm ready to get out of here."

When he comes out of the small shower, Jensen's lying on his sofa, highlighter cap in his mouth, highlighting the script Bob gave him.

"I'm not even gonna have to talk you into it, am I?" Jared walks around, holding his towel closed with one hand, searching for his clothes.

Jensen doesn't look up from the script. "I already know all your arguments and your jeans are behind the chair."

Jared looks behind the chair and finds his jeans in a crumpled ball. He only vaguely remembers leaving them like that. It's been a long day. "My arguments?"

Jensen holds up a hand, ticking off each argument with a finger. One: "I have three months off." Two: "It's an awesome role." Three: "I get to work with you and Allison." Four: "You have enough blackmail on me to make it worth my while."

Jared shoves Jensen's head down as he walks past, grabbing his shirt off the couch by Jensen's feet. "It's a fucking awesome role."

"Three episode arc of a serial killer." Jensen caps the highlighter and sits up.

"That the whole last two seasons have been building up to," Jared reminds him. He slips on his jeans and the t-shirt.

"Bob's sending something to my manager." Jensen puts the highlighter back into the cup in the center of Jared's table. "I drove here so I cancelled your ride. You ready?"

"I'm _starving_." Jared grabs his wallet and slips on his flip flops and heads out the door.

"I'm _shocked,_" Jensen says dryly.

They get Pink's hot dogs, because it's not even close to being on the way to Jared's place, but Jensen just got back from Japan, and he really wants a damn chili dog. Jared eats his on the way back and threatens Jensen's just to listen to him swear.

The house is a complete disaster, of course. The maid doesn't come until Friday, and Jared wasn't expecting company, so his clothes are everywhere and there's a pizza box still on the kitchen table. Jensen eats his chili dogs at the breakfast bar and doesn't even give him shit for being out of beer. Jared puts the game he'd tivo'd on and Jen joins him on the couch. He doesn't ask if Jared missed him but Jared figures the answer's pretty obvious anyway.

* * *

Jared hops off his chair and heads further off the set, cupping his hand so he can hear. "Hey."

"I forgot I have to spend the Saturday with this lady from Vanity Fair." Jensen sounds apologetic.

Jared shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket and looks down at his feet. "Ah. Promo time."

Jensen coughs. "You can come over if you want. I don't _not_ want you there. I just figure that if you're around, she's gonna start asking you questions, and I don't know if you're ready for that."

"Oh, definitely not." Jared wants to _never_ have to answer questions about his divorce, and he knows that it's exactly what he'd be walking into. The only answer he'll ever give will be that he loves Sandy. Because he does love her, always will. Just not the way he used to.

"I'll be free by seven," Jensen says after a moment. "I could, um. I could come over."

Jared looks up at the clouds. "I'll make chili."

"Do you want me to pick up Chinese or something?"

Jared laughs. "Shut up, asshole. I know how to cook."

* * *

Jared makes chili and cornbread from the box. Jensen gets there later than planned, looking tired and pale, but he brightens when he sees actual food. Jared wants to say something like "Seriously, I do know how to fucking cook," but can't bring himself to spoil the moment.

They sit at the breakfast bar, Jensen making properly appreciative noises for the wall TV Jared just had installed in the kitchen. "Sandy would've never let me do that," Jared says conspiratorially.

"That's cause a kitchen's for eating and cooking, not watching Die Hard." Jensen picks a chunk off his slice of cornbread and throws it at Jared.

 

"No reason I can't do all three." The credits are rolling, so Jared steals the remote back from Jensen and flips channels. He's halfway through the entire rotation when he catches Jensen, five years back and locking lips with Rachel McAdams.

Jensen groans, "I hate looking at myself."

"Probably 'cause you're ugly," Jared says innocently.

"If you're trying to get me to call myself a pretty boy, you're gonna be disappointed." Jensen finishes the last bite of his bread, licking the crumbs off his thumb.

Jared swallows and pushes his bare plate away. "You two ever?"

Jensen takes a long draw from his water. "We had that one love scene, right in the middle of filming. And, you know, sometimes it's awkward because you're half-naked in front of twenty people, pretending to fuck, and all you really want is to be down the hall, in a room by yourselves, doing the real thing?"

Jared grunted agreement. It was the fucking worst, really, because it wasn't all that easy trying to pretend it wasn't what you were thinking about.

Jensen smiles, leans his head back to look at the ceiling. "This was kind of the opposite. I mean the lighting was shit. It looked great on film, but in person it was like every imperfection was outlined in neon. And they kept spraying us with water because we'd come in from the rain, and it was kind of the worst scene ever. She kept looking at me like she really, really wanted the bed to swallow her up."

"Nice," Jared shakes his head, grimacing.

Jensen chuckles. "Yeah, well, we both looked pretty horrified, and the director was pissed, and we had to do more takes than I can remember. Worst thing was, the day before, I'd almost asked her out."

"You liked her." Jared had suspected, of course, but it was weird hearing it out loud.

"I did," Jensen says wistfully. "I still do. She's really cool. Smart, just really sharp, and she's got a good sense of humor."

"It's been four years." Jared rubs the back of his neck. "You could ask her out. I'm sure she's over one stupid scene."

Jensen shakes his head. "The ship has sailed. Sometimes it's just like that."

"You're cool, aren't you," Jared says with a little wonder, "With just being alone all your life."

 

Jensen reaches out, flicking the back of Jared's hand. "I'm not alone, man."

* * *

"You're sounding more like yourself."

"Thanks?" Jared switches lanes, sliding easily between two Mercedes. He has twenty minutes to get to a lunch with his agent and a whole other freeway to conquer. It's not looking good.

"It's true." He could hear the smile in his mother's voice. "So work's going well. How about everything else?"

"Sandy said she called you last week so you know about that part she has for that HBO mini."

"It sounds like a good role," she says.

"It _is_ a good role," Jared assures her. He's read the script. For good measure he adds, "And she's going to be great in it."

His mother hums off-key and thoughtful sounding. "I'm glad you're still friends."

"Mama," Jared tries to think of what to say as he merges onto the 101.

"Oh I know it was the right thing to do, baby." He can just tell she's waving a hand at him. "You two just spent so much of your lives together, I'd hate if you couldn't even talk."

"We're better friends, I promise." Separated almost a year and it's something he's completely sure of.

"Well then you just have to find someone you can be both with."

"Not an easy thing, mama."He remembers way back, when he told her every little thing that crossed his mind. They're just as close but it's different because Hollywood isn't home and there will always be some things he can't explain. But he misses the easiness he used to have with it all.

"You'll find it, J.T." She says it like she can make it happen by sheer force of will. He loves that about his mother.

He takes the exit to the restaurant, only five minutes behind schedule. "I'm not worried," he tells her. Which is a lie. He is worried, but not for the reasons she'd think. He's worried he'll fuck it up. That maybe Jen doesn't feel anything like that for him.

He's worried that maybe that ship has sailed.

* * *

Two weeks later, Jensen rides in with Jared so he can get fitted by wardrobe. It's way the hell too early for wardrobe to spare the time, so Jensen tags along to Jared's trailer without a word. They run into Bob, and for just a moment Jared has a story ready about Jensen's car breaking down or something equally ridiculous. Jensen has more cars than Jared does, and anyway Bob doesn't look the least bit curious or surprised and Jensen doesn't seem interested in offering any excuse at all.

Jared smiles, says an awkward good morning before hustling Jen inside the trailer. He feels like an idiot. For a lot of reasons, actually, but mostly because he'd been developing a cover for something completely innocuous. Jensen didn't even spend the night at Jared's house so the car pool wasn't anything more than a car pool. And, really, what would it matter if it _had_ been?

When they break for lunch, Jensen's still being fitted, so Jared flagrantly ignores the rules and grabs two plates from the craft services tent and heads over to wardrobe. Amie gives him a look when he walks in, but Jared gives her his best smile and all she says is, "You spill on it, you bought it."

"You brought me food," Jensen says, voice rough and grateful. They've got him in a dark gray suit, with an even darker blue shirt under it, looking like he stepped out of a magazine or just Wall Street. The whole season, Jared's had an image of the villain in his head and Jensen doesn't really fit the bill. He's not wearing bloody jeans, or sporting a beard grown out too long. He's working an eerie professionalism and Jared can see the direction he's heading for. Someone who spends his days in a cut-throat industry and comes home to actually cut throats to relieve stress. Someone you see on the street, or you work next to, someone you admire, and wish desperately you were.

The episode is going to be fucking amazing. Jared would seriously put money on it. He's got half a mind to call Chad and _actually_ put money on it.

"Figured they'd be starving you," Jared said, keeping the plate a good distance from Jensen's suit.

Jensen snorts and then does a slow spin. "What do you think?"

"You look like you eat baby stockbrokers for breakfast."

"Mission accomplished," Beth says.

Amie helps Jensen out of the jacket. "We have a few others left for you to try on, but why don't you take a few and eat while we get them ready?"

"Thank you." Jensen has an amused smile and he carefully takes the pants and shirt off, passing them over, before pulling his jeans and t-shirt back on. Jared waits patiently, doesn't even bounce on the balls of his feet. Holds Jensen's plate out steady and Jensen takes it and leads the way out of the room. Jared gets them back to his trailer in under two minutes and Jensen claims the couch without asking. "Having a good day?" He takes a small bite of the beef and then his face smoothes out, and he digs in.

"Just working through someone else's complete and total nervous breakdown." It's exhausting but it isn't as much right now as it had been ten minutes ago.

* * *

Jensen works two days his first week, his character, David, just part of the C-story for the moment. Story A being the mystery of the week, and Story B being Jake's season long search for Mel.

Jared hasn't forgotten how much he loves working with Jensen - there's no one else he'd rather work with. But he did forget how _on_ they are together. Each scene is easy and electric, the tension between them coming alive on the screen. The crew is riveted and Jared can feel how good this is, how well it's going to play out on camera and he is fucking ecstatic.

David's a different character for Jensen; no vulnerabilities to hint at, no goodness inherent. He plays every scene like he's razor sharp and gleaming. They get their makeup done together, all of Jensen's freckles obscured by heavy powder. "Don't want you to look too human," Jared says, as Maggie goes over Jensen's face meticulously.

The second week, Jen's there every day but one, and Jared can't remember that last time he worked this hard and didn't feel it in his bones.

The last scene for the episode is a wrestling match on the floor of David's house. They practice the choreography early in the morning, in a small room, wearing sweats and T-shirts. Jensen has a good laugh about ending up with the gun in the end and Jared feels compelled to point out that this is all fiction. In real life, he'd totally win. The stunt coordinator is a small woman, Laney, and she barely comes up to Jared's chest. She'd totally kick his ass in a fight and the look on her face while the two of them argue about Jared's physical advantage is pretty hilarious.

The fight's pretty standard all the way through, punching and shit until they hit the ground and roll around for a while. Jared gets to make a lot of lewd jokes about being on top, but it's Jensen, so he gives as good as he gets, and threatens Jared's manhood for good measure.

When it comes time to film the scene, they're decked out in costume. Jared has the standard black suit, blue tie and a white shirt that's weak in places so it'll rip when they want it to. Jensen's suit is dark charcoal, purposefully better tailored than Jared's, hugging the lines of Jensen's body. He has a dark blue shirt and a tie to match with silver threading. It's not as good as the suits Jensen actually owns, but it's designed to look better on screen. The contrast between them, the indication that David's in a significantly higher tax bracket than Jake, is meant to offset the fact that Jared's still the tallest guy in the room. Apple boxes, after all, don't really work in fight scenes.

Jensen has a small blood pack in his mouth that he bites down on just as Jared swings past his jaw. His teeth and lips are red and he spits it out to the side. His character has been so buttoned up that the act of it is almost animalistic. The look in Jensen's eyes shift, and he smiles like he knows something Jared's character doesn't, and it is fucking freaky to look at. It's the shift from cool sanity to the gears of a serial killer.

"Oh, she's not dead, Jake. Not yet. I've been saving her for you." He moves quickly just after the words. Laney had kept saying over and over 'he's a snake, so he moves like a snake,' and Jensen's hand reaching out and snapping the gun from the ground does remind Jared of a viper.

Jared holds his hands up - universal gesture for 'don't shoot'- and in that moment he is completely Jake. Terrified that this guy is lying and terrified that he isn't. That Mel's been alive the whole time, waiting for a rescue that hasn't come.

Jensen shifts onto his right foot, which is Jared's cue to shove forward, getting his arms around Jensen's middle and then they're on the ground, a messy scuffle that's every inch planned. Hitting the marks when you're tussling along the ground is a bitch, especially since Jared's the one who has to get them near enough to the table. Fight scenes are almost as bad as love scenes, a lot of intimate contact in front of two dozen people, one of them issuing directions the whole while. Jared gets Jensen to the small mark by the table and Jensen reaches out, grabs the book that weighs nothing and swings it at Jared's head. He barely feels the impact but he makes his body roll with it, sprawling out away from Jensen and hissing. Jensen gets up, gets his knee against Jared's side and the prop gun to Jared's head. Jared's slit-eyed and embodying 'dazed' with everything he's got. But he sees Jensen's smile, the darkness of it, and the fake blood making it real and horrible.

The director calls cut and Jensen puts the gun on the table and holds his hand out to Jared. Jared takes it, pulling himself off the ground to the director's pleased, "That was awesome guys." Jared grins at Jensen, who beams at him, bloody teeth and all.

"We're awesome," Jared says.

"That we are," Jensen agrees.

* * *

They run lines that weekend and spend most of it holed up at Jensen's place, eating take out and watching bad movies. On Monday, Allison's finally back and then it's a week of intense scenes, and Jared spends most of it with his wrists and ankles loosely bound. There was an argument, right as the stories were being broken, on whether Jake would kill David in the end and Jared lobbied hard against it. All season long Jake's been going to pieces and Jared wants this finale to be the beginning of Jake's upswing. And he figures that after a season of darkness, the audience is going to be sick and tired of it, and not want another season of Jake being a disaster and questioning every choice he makes.

Jensen claims, "You just want me to come back so you can be Clarice to my Hannibal Lecter."

"Dude, your character's a cannibal too?" Jared asks, feigning shock and horror.

Jensen hangs his head. "I hate you."

They film the confrontation in the middle of the week, and it's about three hours of holding a prop gun to Jensen's head and screaming. The rhythm between the three of them is taut and Allison's benefited from a year off. She's coming in fresh and energetic, and together with Jensen's excitement, they pull Jared past his exhaustion. He's almost forgotten that Jen and Alli had worked together before, but lunch all week finds them in the craft services tent, telling stories about _Smallville_ and Canada and it's nice to hear the two of them laughing. Jared sits next to Jen each day and on Friday he falls asleep with his head on his arms, in the middle of their recount of some prank Rosenbaum had pulled. He wakes up to Jensen's hand on the middle of his back and his whisper of, "You better let them patch your makeup before we get called to set."

They film until four a.m. and Jared gets into the backseat of the car shouting promises to be at the party the next night. Jensen's crashed out in the backseat, face smashed to the window, breath loud and steady. Jared buckles in and tells the driver to take them back to Jensen's. He can worry about getting home in the morning.

* * *

 

Chad demands they go out drinking, before Jared heads off to Texas and Jared can't figure out any way out of it. Since Jensen's leaving too, Jared makes the whole thing into a send off, calling several friends and making sure it isn't all about him. Jensen bitches about being too old for this anymore, and then bitches more about being old enough for that excuse to even work. Chad tells him to man up and the night on the town is mostly Jared watching them wind each other up and go.

Jensen gets Chris, Mike, and Ryan to come along and they pick up more through the course of the night. Eventually, though, it's just down to him, Chad, and Jen, hiding in the VIP section of an old standard. They get the kind of attention that involves the manager offering to bring up some girls from the main floor. Chad angles his head to get a better view of the selection down below, while Jensen shrugs him off half-politely, going to the bar for more drinks instead of waiting for the waitress.

"They don't even know your type," Jared says, when Jen comes back three beers richer.

"Yeah." Chad waves to a group of girls who are barely dressed and probably barely old enough to get in the door. "Guys."

Jensen slams down a beer in front of Chad, laughing. "I like girls too, man."

"Only half the time." Chad licks off the beer that sloshed over onto his hand.

Jensen rolls his eyes, takes his seat again, knee pressing into Jared's. "That's why they call it bi, dumbass."

Chad grabs another fry from the center plate and waves it in Jensen's direction before stuffing it into his mouth. "You should just come out already. Nobody gives a shit and probably half your fans will think you're even hotter. Sex sells."

Jensen runs his thumb over the ridge top of his mug, making a steady circle. "I could give a shit about what anyone thinks. Everybody who knows me knows. I'm not ashamed. I just don't think it's any of _Us Weekly's_ business."

"There's a difference," Jared seconds, looking down at his beer.

"One bad breakup all over the tabloids, and you just never talk about yourself again." Chad clucks his tongue like he's the older, wiser one of the group. "You gotta get a thicker skin."

Jensen throws a french-fry at him. "You gotta get better taste in women."

Chad takes a swig from his mug and shrugs, altogether unrepentant. "We all got our crosses to bear."

Jensen rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I like my privacy, Mayhem. There's nothing wrong with that."

That's the thing of it, really. Jensen's not in the closet and he's not out of the closet. He doesn't give a shit what people know or what they think they know, or what they say behind his back. But he's not ever going to comment on it to the world at large. What's his business is his business. End of story.

Problem is, that's pretty much the polar opposite of Jared's 'sing it from the rooftop' approach. Jared thinks, he has this gut feeling really, that they could make this work. That there's something there beyond wishful thinking. But he's thinking a gut feeling might not be enough.

* * *

Instead of a hello when Jared answers the phone, Sandy says "The internet has given me hope."

Jared just doesn't even know what to say to that. "What?"

"I saw the pictures. You and Jensen. Out drinking." She sighs. "Don't you have something to tell me?"

"I--" He missed a cue here, that much is obvious and he flounders for a moment, trying to follow the thread. When he does catch it, he can feel his face flush even though there's no one around to see. "I'm not sleeping with Jensen," he says quietly.

Sandy makes a noise that's half surprise, half confusion. He can just imagine the look spreading across her face. "Why not?"

Jared sputters and sits straight in his chair. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope."

"Look it isn't. I'm not." He coughs once to get his voice steady, and tries again, this time the truth. "I'm not ready for that."

"I call bullshit," she announces, a little too loud, but not at all shrill. "You're just scared. That doesn't mean you're not ready, it just means you don't know what you're doing. And that's never stopped you before."

Jared puts a hand over his face and breathes, shaking his head, and wanting to laugh. He loves her when she's like this, but it's so weird, her being like this about him and Jensen. "He didn't. I mean, I don't think he wants to. He didn't do anything."

Sandy laughs, clear and sweet. He can hear the echoes of it off her kitchen walls. "Doesn't that figure," she says, breathless.

Jared kicks his feet up onto the seat of the chair across from him. "It's not nice to laugh."

"You want him right?"

"Sandy."

"Jared, we kicked the timeline to the curb. This is us talking. Now be honest with me. We can both take it. You like him, right?"

Jared swallows, throat raw. "Yeah."

"Figure out if it's enough, okay? And then do something about it."

"It's a little soon, don't you think?"

"No." He can practically see her shake her head. "And stop worrying about everybody else. Especially me."

For their fifth anniversary, he bought her a small pink diamond pennant, not because he was showing off but because he saw it, and he knew she'd love it. She wore it almost every day, half the time under the collar of her shirt, so it rested against her skin near her heart. For their tenth anniversary, he bought her a new car because he knew it was over, and he wanted to make sure she'd be okay when he wasn't there to come get her before AAA arrived. He bought her the diamond tennis bracelet as an afterthought, and he's sure, so sure, she hasn't worn it since.

He puts his bare feet down against the cold tile, looks at the wood grains swirled in his new kitchen table. He breathes in and out, tries to clear his head and his throat. He licks his lips, remembers the taste of her oatmeal cookies, and the pleasant bitterness of Jensen's coffee.

"I'm trying," he says.

In the background he can hear her puppy growling amid the clatter of a kitchen in use. She says quietly, "I think if we had ended it before we got married, he would have stepped right in."

He leans his head against the window, staring out at the darkness of the streets at night. "Sandy."

"Jared." She huffs in frustration. "I'm not saying it because I'm jealous. He's your friend and he loves you. I was always okay with that. "

He doesn't know what to say to that. Because, just like Jared, Sandy took to Jensen faster than she had to any of his other friends. He's never thought much about it, mostly chalked it up to them having so much in common. And yeah, the first thing they had in common was Jared but he never figured that it meant anything. He sure as hell never figured that maybe the first thing they had in common was the way they felt about him. Now, though, he can't help but hope like hell that it's true.


	5. Chapter 5

He flies into Texas a week later, has a day to get acclimated, and then it's off to the races. There's no boot camp, which is fine because one is enough for a lifetime for Jared. But there's a crash course in weapons and history, which Jensen and Jared laugh about. They've heard stories their whole lives so they've got one leg up on most of the cast.

It's weird, filming in Texas, with his family within reach, and his carefully controlled accent slipping right back to the drawl of his youth. Jensen's not quite as bad, but the later the nights get, the more he tends to mumble when they're off camera. Being from Texas was the first thing that bonded the two of them, way back, and it's funny to think about it now, because it's such a small facet of what's there between them.

The cast is split between two hotels, and Jared and Jensen are in the same one, so they get driven to and from set together. Jensen gets room service coffee to go every morning, and Jared bitches enough that he starts getting two cups. Sometimes they run lines and sometimes Jensen falls asleep on the drive out to set. Jared threatens to take pictures each time it happens, but he only takes one and uses it as the background for his phone.

The cast gets along pretty well, going out for drinks with each other and the crew most Friday nights. Jared likes to tell embarrassing stories and Jensen plays straight man to it all like he was born for it.

They don't have all their scenes together but they have a lot, and mostly they're always right together, in the thick of things. Always in each other's space, and even their set chairs are side by side.

The momentum from filming the season finale has followed into this. Every time they're in front of the camera together, it's electric. Some takes aren't the best, of course, but the chemistry is palpable and the energy is contagious. Mangold likes to comment on it, quick mentions of how _on_ the two of them are, how brilliant the scene is, how well it's going.

Jared's taken two summers off in a row, the year before last because he and Sandy were coming apart, and he needed to at least _try_. But he knows the rumblings around town about his film career, and he knows that working on nothing but the show for two years straight hasn't done him any favors. But he doesn't feel it now, standing in the Texas sun, waiting with a prop gun in his hand for Mangold to call action.

No, now he feels like everything's finally on the right track.

* * *

Jensen's Crockett is a solid hero; layered, weathered, and complicated, but with the strong core of goodness that runs through a lot of Jensen's characters. A good balance between Jared's antihero Bowie and Highmore's green around the ears Travis. Mangold talks about it like they're almost three aspects of the same man. It's more complicated than that, but Jared likes the idea that they're all three from the same cloth. He likes playing it that some of the friction between Bowie and Travis is Bowie seeing some of himself in the younger man.

 

Jensen doesn't wear the famous coonskin cap, but it's tied to the saddle of his horse for those looking for it. Jared likes that, sees it as a small touch that shows a certain care for the subject. The movie is striving for some level of historical accuracy, which Jared's damned glad for, but there's no sense of shame about the Hollywood history of it either.

 

Jared should resist. He knows he should, but he can't bring himself to. He's weak, but he isn't ashamed. He gets the bulk of the crew in on it, Mangold too, so Jensen's first take of Crockett's arrival is punctuated with a loud and cheerful rendition of the old Disney theme song.

Jensen flips off the crew, which is surely going on the outtakes, but he's laughing too. He ends up finishing the chorus with them.

The scene takes up the bulk of the day, too many angles to be covered, and too many horses to make it easy. Jensen spends most of that time trapped in the saddle and looking none too happy about it. Jared goes over to him between takes, tries to keep him smiling despite the fatigue that has to be setting in.

"King of the wild frontier." Jared waves the tail of the coonskin cap.

Jensen flicks Jared's hand. "You having fun, Jay?"

"Nah," Jared shakes his head with a grin, pulling his hands back. "What about filming an Alamo movie in the middle of Texas could possibly be fun?"

"Not a damn thing," Jensen grins back. He runs a hand down over the cap, smoothing it down against the saddlebags. "Tell you what, though, I can't wait until this day is over. It's fucking hot as hell."

"That's Texas," Jared says.

"That it is," Jensen sighs, straightening up on the horse and cracking his neck.

"Could be worse." Jared barely manages to keep a straight face.

Jensen frowns. "Okay, I'm waiting. How could it be worse?"

"If you weren't bowlegged, you'd be getting awful saddle sore."

Jensen stares at him and then leans down to smack him. Jared laughs, jerking away before Jensen can't get him.

"You're getting your own damn coffee tomorrow," Jensen mutters. He's trying not to laugh though, so Jared considers his mission accomplished.

* * *

The last thing Jared wants to do, after spending a whole day playing a man drunk off his ass, is go to a bar. Still, Fred invites him, Jensen invites himself, and after that, it's half the cast and crew. Jared's not going to be the only one saying no. He's exhausted though, the energy burned right out of him, so he parks himself at a table far away from the bar. Jensen gets them both beers from the bar and heads over, Fred in tow. Highmore's a good kid, level head on his shoulders, especially for all that he's ten years younger than Jared, but has been in the business almost as long.

"No shop talk," Jensen tells them both when he takes his seat. "Jared, here, looks like he's going to off himself if we say Alamo one more time."

"Won't off myself," Jared protests, taking the beer pushed at him. "Might kill you, though."

"You may be big, but you're really not scary." Jensen shakes his head in mock pity. "Sorry, man."

Fred chuckles, looking at the both of them with honest amusement. "No shop talk," he agrees. Jared spends all day on set with the guy, listening to him rattle off lines with a perfect Texan drawl, and he's always a little surprised when they get off set and the guy's English accent comes back with a vengeance.

The waitress brings buffalo wings and french-fries. Jensen makes the mistake of bringing up sports, which means within five minutes Fred's declared that American football is for pussies, and Jared and Jensen are talking trash about cricket. Jared orders onion rings and another round when the waitress circles back. Jensen ends up using napkins and french-fries to explain football strategy to Fred, who keeps insisting that he's had it all laid out for him before, and he still thinks it's stupid.

Jared unabashedly watches Jensen's hands trace the confines of the table.

Fred spends ten minutes going on about soccer ("real football") and how the forced inability to use hands makes it the superior sport. Jared gets into it, but for once it's Jensen energetically dominating the table. Jared's grateful for it. He's too damn tired to really keep up his end of the conversation, which doesn't happen often.

When Fred gets up to use the restroom, Jared's half-asleep, mechanically eating onion rings.

"You're staring." Jensen kicks him under the table.

Jared totally has been staring at Jensen. Possibly for a while. He hooks his ankle over Jensen's, locking their feet together. "You're the prettiest girl in the whole place."

"Like I've never heard that before." Jensen wiggles his foot free and steps down on Jared's foot. It doesn't hurt.

Fred comes back with shots and a well-thought-out rant against baseball. Jared has two shots, one more beer, and almost falls asleep at the table. It's a sad display that Jensen rags on him about the whole ride back to the hotel.

* * *

Jared's sitting up on a cot, back braced against the wall. He has blankets strewn across his legs, shirt half on, and a pistol in each hand. Jared likes the old fashioned guns, the reality that the weight of them bring to his character.

Mangold calls cut and Jared relaxes, leaning his head back against the wall.

"You're doing great, Jared," Mangold says, pleasure apparent in his voice. "One more take and I think we got it."

There are four people touching up the pale makeup spread across him, and another one spraying a fine sheen of water across his forehead. There are extras beyond him, all holding pistols. He knows his blocking, knows which of the men will go down and which ones will take him down. He's done death scenes before, not as many as Jensen, but he's done them. This feels different, though. He has no last lines, no goodbyes, no arms to catch him. Bowie is going out, fighting as best he can, and he's going out alone.

Men take their marks and quiet on the set is called. Jared breathes in and out, several times, moving himself away from how hard the cot is, how awkward he, himself, feels just sitting like this. He blinks slowly and in his brain it clicks over. Mangold calls action and Jared _is_ Bowie, making his last stand, there in his very last moment, defiant still. He shoots right, left, right, right, blanks going off and men dropping to the ground. The squibs pop against his chest and he falls back against the wall. He bites the pack in his mouth, fake blood spilling over his lips with a few hitching breaths. He slumps in on himself, shoulders forward, neck at an uncomfortable angle, and lets his eyes stare at nothing.

Men move around him, a carefully choreographed fight across the room. Jared doesn't breathe and he doesn't breathe.

Mangold calls, "Cut!" with a giddy enthusiasm that makes Jared look straight up and smile.

"Perfect," Mangold says, pointing at Jared. "Fucking nailed it, Jared."

Jared grins like a maniac because he knows he did absolutely nail it.

* * *

Jensen catches Jared just as he's leaving his trailer.

"Got us a later car." He grabs Jared by the arm and steers him away from the direction of the lot.

Jared lets himself be led. "Where're we going?"

 

"Mangold and some of the crew are watching the dailies, and I decided we should crash the party. I heard you were amazing today while I was off rehearsing fight choreography."

Jared grins. "Heard that, did you?"

Jen's fingers tighten briefly against his forearm. "All anyone could talk about."

There's a trailer, in the back of the lot, that's been converted to a mini-theater. Everyone looks pretty happy to see them, Mangold offering them space in the front row with him.

"You want everybody else to see the screen don't you?" Jared declines, pulling Jen to the back.

"You just want to make out," Jensen says quietly, grinning at his own joke.

"I'm not really into exhibitionism," Jared says seriously.

Jensen blinks, surprise obvious on his face. The lights go down, the dailies go up and whatever Jensen was going to say is lost.

* * *

Jensen shoves a script in Jared's direction. "A washed out punk rocker, going through detox, falling for this guy who has everything going for him, and doesn't need that kind of baggage."

Jared pulls off his headphones and turns away from the monitor to look at Jensen. "What?"

"Anne's husband is producing it." Jensen shifts further back into his chair, slouching down so far that his ass was nearly off the seat. "She had it sent over with a little pink post-it. 'You can wear eyeliner.' I swear to god, it was one scene and she can't let it go. I think she's got a fetish."

 

Jared smacks Jensen on the thigh to get his attention. "You want to play a gay punk rocker who wears eyeliner and gets it on with a stockbroker?"

"Journalist actually," Jensen corrects offhandedly.

"You're serious." Jared tries to envision it and shifts in his chair.

"I'm seriously considering it, which isn't exactly the same thing." Jensen rubs the back of his neck, sighing quietly. "Some scenes need rewrites, and I think me in leather at this age is going to be a hard sell."

"It's not," Jared says without hesitation.

Jensen gives him an amused look. "That's sweet man, but I'm forty-one. I think the leather pants days are behind me."

"Not according to _People_," Jared shrugs.

Jensen groans. "Don't start that shit again."

"So why don't you really want to take it?" Jared knows him well enough to know that leather pants aren't a make-or-break thing for Jensen. He's more selective than he used to be, sure, but he's still the guy who'll wear almost anything in a photoshoot.

Jensen shifts in his seat, drumming his fingers against his knees. "It's four months in New Zealand."

"You love New Zealand." Jared didn't actually know anyone who didn't love New Zealand.

"Yeah, well, maybe I want to stick closer to home for a little while." Jensen gives him a small smile before turning to face the monitor.

"Yeah? Gonna miss me too much, huh?" It comes out wrong, not the joke Jared meant it to be. He can barely hear over the sound of his own heart pumping away.

Jensen's smile comes back, bigger this time. He still doesn't look Jared in the eye. But he says, "Yeah," like he knows exactly what he's saying.

* * *

Jared wants to overthink it. He wants to call Allison up, and analyze Jensen's every move with someone who knows him almost as well. Not because he wants to talk about it but mostly because he just wants someone else to say, "It's a good idea. Go for it." Sandy would tell him all those things, but she's Sandy. He can't go to her about this. And Chad would say, "Whatever you do, wait until filming's over." He's heard Chad say it to everybody else a hundred times.

It freaks Jared out a little, but he's going to listen to his inner Chad.

He can wait a while longer and if things blow up in his face? At least they'll both have enough distance to get over it and not let it fuck up everything.

* * *

Mostly, it's all just hard work in the hot sun and weekends spent with his parents. Jensen tags along sometimes, and drags him out to Dallas others. Jared's mama loves cooking for them, fawns over Jensen like one of her own, like no time has passed at all.

"You boys are as close as ever," she says, making Jared stand there with her and cut up vegetables.

Jensen is outside with Jared's nieces and nephews, leading an impromptu game of freeze tag. Jared keeps his eyes on the window. "Closer maybe."

Jared's mama takes it for what it is, says, "Well he's always welcome here, no matter what," like she's imparting a secret. The approval in her voice makes Jared's chest go warm.

"Thanks," he says, quiet and steady, focusing on breathing.

Outside Jensen runs like a man fifteen years younger and Jared just watches him go.

* * *

There's a cloudburst on one of the outdoor days. The sky opens up out of practically nowhere, and it's a torrential downpour. Jensen's laughing, water sliding down his face, making the makeup smear. They're going to have to take a break, because it's raining too hard to work through, and Jared can hear the director shouting, just can't make out any of the words. Jensen's eyes are slits, the laugh lines spread out from the corners, and the grin on his face isn't like anything Jared ever sees him give anyone else.

Jared leans forward, unconsciously sliding into Jensen's personal space. Jensen's laugh fades and his eyes widen a fraction. But he keeps that smile on. "What?" Jensen shouts over the rain.

"Nothing," Jared shakes his head. He punches Jensen lightly on the arm.

Jensen pushes at him, squeezing his bicep before making him lean back a little. "Told you this would be fun."

"Fun," Jared repeats as thunder peals across the sky. Fun isn't the word he'd pick, it isn't strong enough, but it'll do.

"Fun," Jensen confirms, turning to look out at the set. One of the PAs races across, holding a notebook over her head.

Jared wants to get back into Jensen's space, reach out with his thumb and drag some of the rain off Jensen's face. _It's not the time_ he tells himself, taking a breath. Not the time or place to be doing something like that, no matter how bad he wants to. He closes his eyes and leans back against the faux adobe wall arms folded over his chest. "Fun."

Jensen touches his side, hand warm through the coolness of his wet shirt. "We should probably get to our trailers," he says. His voice is softer and closer than before.

Jared opens his eyes, looks at Jensen and the dark blue sky behind him. "I like it." He doesn't move, hoping Jen's hand will linger.

Jen leans back against the wall too, close enough that Jared can hear him breathing. "There's nothing like Texas," Jensen says.

"Amen," Jared hooks an arm around Jen's shoulder, which he thinks has always been the perfect height. "I'll drink to that."

* * *

 

Filming wraps up on a Tuesday, one last battle scene that goes well into the night. Jared has his assistant get two tickets for a Thursday flight back to LA. He has the inklings of a plan in his head.

Jensen's asleep before the plane takes off, head tilted back in the exact worst way. Jared pulls out his camera, because he can't resist, but after a few blackmail shots, he nudges Jensen to turn. Jensen grumbles but tilts his head down without really waking up. It looks more comfortable at least, and his breathing is quieter. Jared can't sleep at all. He's too wired and his brain is going a mile a minute.

Jensen's pretty foggy from sleep when they get to the baggage claim. Jared's able to get the bags and steer Jensen to the exit without much fuss. One driver is waiting for them both with a quick and polite, "Hello," and an offer to get the bags.

Jensen smiles and nods at the driver before shooting Jared a weird look. "You've had three months straight of me. Don't you miss, you know, the rest of your friends?"

"The rest of my friends are Chad," Jared mutters impatiently.

Jensen looks considering for a moment and then says, "Good point."

Jared snorts, hooking his arm over the cab door. "Just get inside, would ya?"

Jensen hands his bags off to the driver and climbs inside. The back seat is cramped, Jensen's thigh pressed against his. Jared keeps his fist on his knee, sticking pretty hard to the idea that waiting until they get inside, and away from prying eyes, is for the best.

The drive is hell. Traffic's shit, like normal, slowing to a crawl at every interchange. Jared taps his fingers nervously against his leg, and he keeps catching Jensen out of the corner of his eye, staring at him.

When the car pulls up the curb Jared practically jumps out, jogging back to the trunk before the driver's all the way out of his seat. He hears Jensen cussing something fierce from inside the car, but laughing at the same time, so Jared figures he can't be too annoyed. The driver pops the trunk, and looks nonplussed when he gets there and Jared's already got their luggage out. Jared gives him an obscene tip, and shouts for Jensen to get a move on.

Jensen comes around the car to grab his bags, waving off the driver's help with a polite smile. "We're good from here. Thanks."

Jared jogs up the drive, digging his keys out of his pocket with one hand, keeping his bags steady with the other.

"Jesus Christ, Jared." Jensen stops halfway up the drive. "I'm forty-one years old and it's not raining, so I'm not running up the driveway. What's wrong with you?"

Jared has suffered through a three -hour plane ride, an hour drive, and months of frustration. He is two steps from Jensen's house, and that's just going to have to be close enough. _Screw self control_, he thinks.

Jared drops the duffel bag on the porch and steps off it, right into Jensen's space. Right up against him, fists in his t-shirt, pulling. Jensen cants his head up to look Jared in the eye and that's it, right there. Jared bends his head down and kisses him

Jensen opens his mouth without hesitation, fingers finding purchase on Jared's hips, holding on just as tight as Jared is. First kisses are always uneasy rhythms, stops and starts until the angle's right, and the pressure's steady. Jared doesn't have to turn his head, or wait for Jensen to catch up. It's mutual aggression, effortless and fast, like they both already know the rules.

It's not like a first kiss at all, and it is, hands down, the best first kiss Jared's ever had. And sure, he's thirty-seven, but he knows it has nothing to do with experience, and everything to do with _knowing_ Jensen.

He gasps into Jensen's mouth, "You're clueless, man." He's been working up to this for weeks, months, years, he doesn't know how long. But it's been there, building.

Jensen tilts his hips into Jared's, whispers against his lips. "Fuck you, you've been clueless for _years_." He kisses Jared hard, holding him in place and making him feel it.

Getting inside is a fumbled mess of keys, bags, and a complete inability to stop touching for even just a minute. Jensen gets the lock turned, and Jared gets the door open, and they spill into the hallway. The bags are kicked in, the door kicked shut, then Jensen's dragging him down the hall, deftly undoing the buttons of Jared's shirt.

Getting up the stairs is a trick, Jensen tripping up backwards, and Jared laughing at every impatient noise he makes. Jensen tastes like mint gum and leftover traces of sleep. He has strong hands, and nice arms, and a set of abs that aren't quite what they used to be. He has grey in his hair, and lines around his eyes, and Jared loves it all. Jared bites at his mouth, and pulls at his grey t-shirt, and makes sure he doesn't trip as he backs into his bedroom, and kicks off his shoes.

"You're real impatient," Jensen mutters, letting Jared tug off his t-shirt.

Jared runs his hands straight down Jen's stomach, cups the hard line of his erection. "Don't think you really mind."

Jensen swears softly and pulls at Jared's belt. "Worse things in the world than a little impatience." His knuckles push into Jared's belly, fingers tripping over the jeans button.

Jared slides his hands up Jensen, finding every angle in reach, hard and soft. He has always loved touching Jensen, the way the guy leans into it without meaning to, and returns the favor without thought. He has always loved it, and he's almost embarrassed that it took him so long to see what that means.

"Focus." Jensen bites Jared's bottom lip.

Jared grins, feels the pull of Jensen's teeth. "I'm focused, trust me." He cups Jensen's jaw, kisses him hard, teeth clashing but he doesn't care. All he wants it to be let in.

Jensen's fingers ride the edge of Jared's boxers, nails dragging along the hairs there. Jared growls instinctively, dropping his hands to cup Jensen's ass. Jensen grunts, thrusting against Jared once, twice, before pulling back. He presses haphazard kisses all along Jared's throat and jaw while he undoes the buttons of Jared's jeans.

Jared's the kind of guy who laughs during sex, not because it's funny, really, but because he's happy. He is happy, and breathless, and gasping against Jensen, and he's still wearing half his clothes.

Jared's belt clinks when it hits the floor.

Jared pulls back, impatient, ditching his flip flops and jeans. He tugs his boxers off and kicks them away. Jensen's jeans are gone just as fast, and closes the space between them, pressing straight up against Jared and kissing him like, yeah, he's been waiting for years.

Jared breaks away, gasping into the rough stubble on Jensen's cheek. "I want you to fuck me, okay?"

Jensen gives a throaty laugh, hand sliding up the curve of Jared's spine. "Yeah." He pushes Jared down on the bed and Jared obligingly moves until he's all the way on.

"It's unfair that you're in this good a shape." Jensen slides a hand up Jared's calf, blunt nails scratching lightly down the muscle.

Jared hooks a foot behind Jensen's thigh, pulling gently. "Get up here."

Jensen grins, crawling up the bed until he's within reach. Jared cups the back of Jensen's head and pulls his face down. Jared kisses the laugh lines at Jensen's eyes and the small creases at the corners of his mouth. "I'm a lucky bastard," Jared says seriously.

"Yeah, you're about to be." Jensen winks and pulls away just long enough to get into his nightstand drawer.

"I've got stuff in my bag," Jared runs a hand over Jensen's arm, thumb dipping in at the elbow. "Downstairs."

Jens pulls out an unopened lube and a condom from the drawer. "Gotta be prepared," he says.

Jared doesn't ask. He gets it. He was a stupid bastard, but he gets it now. Jared rolls over onto his stomach without prompting. Jensen runs his hands up Jared's sides, urging him onto his knees. Jared braces his hands on the bed and spreads his legs. He hears the click of the cap being undone.

Jensen presses one finger in, and Jared pushes back into it. It's been a while, but he couldn't care less. He wants Jensen, right now, in him, against him, everywhere. "Come on," he urges.

Jensen laughs, placing a light kiss to the base of Jared's spine. "Take it easy, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Jared looks over his shoulder at Jensen. "I know," he says, but he's impatient and he can't help it. He rocks his hips again. Jensen slips a second finger in, thrusts a few times, finally getting the right angle to make Jared groan.

Jensen pulls his fingers back out and then Jared can feel Jensen's thighs line up against his own. He pushes into Jared in one slow thrust, making Jared feel every inch. Jared fists the sheets, presses his face into the pillow and sighs. The second thrust he rolls with, angling down until Jensen hits the perfect spot. Jared's vision goes starry and he groans, moving his body back, picking up the pace. He hears Jensen muttering, something soft and shaky, but he can't quite make out the words.

Jensen puts one hand on Jared's shoulder, holding him still and smoothing out the rhythm. The other hand is curled around Jared's dick, sliding with every thrust of their hips. Jensen moves faster, urged on by Jared's uncontrolled mantra, "Come on, come on, come on."

He feels Jensen's forehead against his back, the warmth of his breath, the tickle of his hair. He hears the hitch, the, "God, Jared." Feels the twist of the callused fingers against the head of his dick. He can't think, isn't sure he's breathing himself, only aware of Jensen. The smell and feel of him, the easy way they're moving together.

It's long minutes of that, Jensen's hips slamming against him over and over, Jensen's fingers making a half moon on his shoulder, his other palm curving over sensitive skin with every breath.

Jensen comes first with a deep guttural groan, the hand on Jared's dick going shaky as Jensen rides it out. Jensen takes a deep breath and then jacks his fist up and down, firm and rough, until Jared goes over the edge.

When Jared's head clears he can feel Jensen's hands on Jared's back, thumbs meeting at the spine. He pulls out of Jared slowly and when the bed dips with his loss of weight, Jared lowers himself with shaky arms and rolls onto his back.

Jensen drops the condom in the small trashcan near the door. Jared watches him walk back to the bed, looks at Jensen's skin flushed red all over.

"Could get used to that," Jensen settles on the bed next to him.

Jared runs his palm over Jensen's rough jaw, tilts Jensen's face to his, kisses his bruised lips. "Good thing," he says into Jensen's mouth. "I plan on making it a habit."

Jensen kisses him back, languid and sweet. He settles down against Jared, easy and perfectly familiar.

* * *

He tells Sandy first, because she deserves to know and because she's _Sandy_. She says, "I told you so," and, "I'm really happy for you, Jared."

His family isn't surprised, though some of his friends are, but most everyone responds to the heads up with well-wishes and pleasure.

All Chad says is, "You're gonna miss pussy."

It's really not a reaction Jared was expecting, and hell maybe it's true. Maybe he will. But he knows he's not gonna miss it enough to regret anything.

"I don't know," he says, returning Chad's good natured smile. "There's a pretty good tradeoff."


	6. Epilogue

Jared's phone rings at an absolutely ungodly hour, and he'd just as soon ignore it, but Jensen shoves him and cusses loudly. So. Jared reaches out from under the covers and snags the phone off his nightstand. "'lo?"

It's Sandy, which he knew from the ring, but he can't understand a word she's saying. She's high-pitched, giddy sounding, and it's all a babble. Jared pushes himself up on one elbow and interrupts her, "Sandy?"

There a long pause and then Sandy says, patient as can be, "You're not up yet are you?"

"No, it's--" Jared looks at the clock. "God, really early."

"Yes, it is." He can tell she's grinning, can hear it in her high voice. "And you should be up already. You should have been watching."

It takes Jared about a half second before he gets it. He sits up in bed and flails around for the remote he knows is on Jen's nightstand.

"Jesus, what the fuck," Jensen says, wiggling away from Jared's hands and scooting up in bed.

Jared gets the remote and turns the TV on, flipping through the channels. "Did I--" he doesn't want to jinx it, just in case, but if he missed it he needs to know.

"Congratulations, Jared," Sandy says, pride and delight clear.

"Fuck," Jared says eloquently. His name is on the scroll at the bottom of the TV, right behind the words, _Best Supporting Actor Nominees_.

Jensen gets his glasses on and then his hands are on Jared's head, pulling him in for a quick, congratulatory kiss. "I knew you could do it," he says.

On the line Sandy laughs, says, "Tell Jensen, I knew it too."

"Okay," Jared says. His heart is racing and he can feel his fingers tingling.

"I'm gonna go. Your phone'll be ringing off the hook any minute now. But I am so proud of you, Jared."

"Thank you." Jared closes his eyes and smiles.

His phone does ring like crazy, and Jensen's too, a hundred people wanting to offer congratulations and advice and just be happy for him. Jensen gives up on sharing at the hour and half mark, taking Jared's phone away and chucking it across the room.

"People want to talk to me," Jared says, laughing.

"Yeah, well..." Jensen pushes him back down on the bed. "I didn't get to congratulate you, yet." He kisses Jared firmly, one hand sliding under the sheet to curl around Jared's dick. Jared smiles into the kiss.

 

Jensen slides his hand up and down Jared's dick until it's fully hard. He breaks off the kiss, giving Jared an exaggerated wink as he inches down the bed. He kisses a trail down to the hair, fist stroking Jared's dick slow and steady. Jared thrusts shallowly into the touch, urging Jensen on.

Jensen's not one to tease, he takes Jared halfway down at first go, fist sliding up to meet his lips. Jared drops his head against the pillow and groans. Jensen moves his head up and down at the slow pace that drives Jared crazy. He moves down a little farther at every go, fist going up a little less until his hand is still at the base and his mouth is going over and over along the skin. He sucks hard with every upslide, and hums as he goes back down.

Jared props himself up on his elbows so he can watch Jensen's mouth spread wide. Jensen's eyes flick up, catching Jared's for a second, before he pulls up to run his tongue over the head. Jared clenches his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Jensen's tongue making slow patterns over his skin.

Jared's already amped all the way up, body thrumming, pulse pounding. It takes a few more thrusts and then he's coming in Jensen's mouth. He opens his eyes to see Jensen pull off, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jared gives him a lazy grin.

Jensen shakes his head, smiling, and gets off the bed. He grabs the green shirt off the floor and pulls it over his head. "So what do you want to do on your big day?"

Jared watches him walk around the bedroom, picking up the discarded clothes, and dumping them in the hamper. He tries to remember if he ever watched Jensen's ass like this, way back in the day, and he doesn't think he did. It's kind of a shame.

Jensen winces and picks up a stray sock, nose crinkled from what Jared bets is a mostly imaginary smell.

"We're out of coffee," Jared says.

"I can do a latte run. I'm not too proud." Jensen disposes of the sock and then grabs a new pair from the top right drawer of the wardrobe.

_Community property socks_, Jared thinks.

"And I think the milk's bad."

Jensen looks at him, eyebrow arched, only one foot socked. "House rules are still grocery shopping is a team effort."

Jared moves his leg and kicks at Jensen's thigh through the blankets. "We could go early before the soccer moms get up. And then we'll have time to fuck around before we go to the pound."

Jensen grabs Jared's foot through the blankets, narrowly avoiding another playful kick. "You are really damn set on that, aren't you?"

"You need a dog," Jared says with finality.

Jensen stands up, swatting at Jared's calf before he steps away towards the closet. "Yeah, yeah," he shakes his head, already resigned to it. "We need a dog."

Jared braces himself on his elbows, watching Jensen grab a pair of tennis shoes. Jensen walks around the bed and sits down on the edge, leaning back against Jared's thigh. He sets one shoe to the side and puts the other one on.

Jared sits up all the way, looking at the hard line of Jensen's shoulders underneath the t-shirt. "I know you're not big on public displays and shit..."

Jensen angles back to look Jared right in the eye. "I'm totally your trophy date." Jensen grins as he turns back to tie his shoes. "The bitch of it is, you have to rewrite that Oscar speech again."

Jared rests his palm against the back of Jensen's neck, rubs his thumb underneath Jensen's ear to make him shiver. "Nah," Jared says, smiling so hard it hurts. "You were the first one on the list, anyway."

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thanks to the amazing [waterofthemoon](http://waterofthemoon.livejournal.com). The artwork is just gorgeous.  
> Thanks go to [kimannebb](http://kimannebb.livejournal.com) and [joyeuxnoel](http://joyeuxnoel.livejournal.com) for their encouragement and beta assistance. I can't thank you enough guys.
> 
> To [hederahelix](www.hederahelix.livejournal.com) for convincing me to sign up for big bang and convincing me that my story was good enough. Thank you for your help, the summary, your editing, your love of commas, and your constant encouragement. This is all your fault.
> 
> Lastly, thanks go to [smittywing](http://smittywing.livejournal.com>) for holding my hand and betaing all 40,000 words of this thing, despite not even being in the fandom. I can't explain how much I appreciate your encouragement and your friendship. Thank you for making me a better writer and a better person.
> 
> The Story Notes
> 
> All of this started because someone on my friendslist mentioned desperately wanting a story set at least ten years in the future. I remember there was some waxing poetic on Jensen's laugh lines, but I do not remember who said it. Clearly, the idea stuck in my brain and didn't let go.
> 
> In case you're wondering, the nachos totally exist.


End file.
